Better Worlds
by TheLateNightStoryteller
Summary: "If you can dream a better world you can make a better world ...or perhaps travel between them." Set over a century after the demise of earth. Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons are two scientists part of an expedition in search of a new planet for the human race to call home, when something goes terribly wrong.
1. Impact

He was surprised the impact hadn't killed them. They'd lost control of the shuttle at around nine hundred feet above the planet's surface; without warning all systems had simply turned off.

Neither of them had extensive training in flying the small spacecraft. It had been meant to guide itself down on it's own using the autopilot, and it was only May's voice across their personal communications devices (PCDs), firing off calm, firm instructions, that had allowed them to haphazardly slow their landing.

Slow it enough that they were still alive, but not enough for the shuttle- or them- to come out in one piece. The collision had torn it apart, sending large fragments, careening off in all directions.

One of those fragments had been Simmons' seat.

"Jemma!" Fitz screamed, desperate to hear her voice calling back, an awful emptiness hollowing out in his stomach, nothingness made from sheer terror.

They'd had close calls before, horrifying moments when they feared death had them firmly in in it's grip, but they'd been together. They'd always been together to face whatever endless darkness awaited them.

Fitz had never been alone facing it, and he'd never been confronted with the possibility that he would survive it and she wouldn't.

"Jemma! Where are you?! Answer me!" he bellowed, struggling to undo his belt with his one good arm, the one which hadn't been crushed against the wall when his own seat had shot violently to the left, however the damn clasp wasn't co-operating with his suddenly clumsy fingers.

He was dizzy and nauseous, even though, as far as he could tell, the only thing hurt was his arm. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew that it didn't make sense, that there was something very wrong happening that he didn't know about, but he couldn't manage to grasp onto the thought, which in itself was alarming.

'_It doesn't matter anyway,_' he decided. '_All that matters right now is finding Jemma, making sure she's OK. She has to be OK_.'

But, he quickly discovered, it did matter very much.

"I'm getting the oxygen levels at twelve percent," Skye told him fretfully through the PCDs, her voice shaking, though it was clear she was straining not to let it. "How can it be that low?"

What the hell? Twelve percent? _Twelve percent?!_ They'd been told the levels were _high_, worried about the possible negative effects of a _hyper_oxic environment. (Though Simmons had tentatively decided it was unlikely they were high enough to be dangerous.)

They'd still brought masks and tanks, just in case.

"Where's Jemma?" he demanded, freeing himself at last and struggling towards the storage bin only to find that it too had been ejected during the crash, leaving a trail of debris leading away from him, out onto the rocky, barren ground.

He cursed under his breath and began following the trail, holding his throbbing arm so as not to jostle it, because the jolts of pain that bolted through him when he did threatened to render him unconscious. Not that the bloody atmosphere wasn't already on its way to ensuring that happened anyway.

_Twelve bloody percent. _What the hell had gone wrong? So help him if someone had forgotten to carry the one, or neglected to convert torr to atm. Not that any of that would have been such an _enormous problem_ if the damn shuttle hadn't decided to turn off almost a thousand feet above the ground.

Muttering about faulty equipment and doing the math himself next time, he followed the path of jettisoned debris. If the crate had been thrown in that direction, Simmons would likely have been too, and he needed to get to her, to find her a mask before any damage was done… before she suffocated.

She couldn't suffocate, she couldn't die. He couldn't live if she did. He needed to know where she was. Why had no one responded yet?

"Damn it Skye! Where is Jemma!?" he shouted, fear and pain harshening his tone, when she hadn't answered him for almost half a minute.

At last, someone spoke but it was May, not Skye. "You need to focus. We're sending a rescue shuttle, it will be there soon. Find a mask and put it on," she told him quietly.

That wasn't what he'd asked.

"Where. Is. Dr. Simmons?" he growled, forgetting that May was his superior, his friend. Forgetting that she and Skye were only trying to help.

There was another agonizing ten seconds of silence as he continued his search.

"We aren't getting a response from her," May replied and, though her voice remained low and even, it was no longer anything resembling calm. She was frightened.

"No," he shook his head, whipping it from side to side. "No, she's alive. I have to find her."

"Fitz-" she placated.

"NO!" he snapped, his voice breaking, becoming high-pitched and gritty. He was stumbling now, steps heavy but he refused to give up, refused to let her tell him to find a mask and sit tight. If Simmons was hurt and he left her it'd be too late by the time they reached them. "Just… just shut up," he croaked. "Unless you know where she is, shut up."

He wasn't thinking clearly and he hadn't yet realized that those could have been the last words he said to his friend. If he had, he might have apologized because, as much as he meant them, his fury was not for her.

It didn't matter anyway, May knew, and she fell silent, allowing him to continue combing the debris.

"J-jemma…" he choked out. How long had it been? A minute? Two minutes? He was running out of time. "Jemma! Please… please..." he whimpered. "Jemma!"

Tears blurred his vision and the sob that spasmed up from his chest cut off his desperate shouts. The world spun around him and his knees shook but he couldn't give up so he trudged onwards, using up his dwindling strength to call out her name until he spotted her.

She was crumpled against the crate a few feet away, heartbreakingly still, blood dripping down from somewhere underneath her hair but, by some miracle, only inches away from one of the tanks.

He pushed forward and fell to his knees beside her, aware his weakened body wouldn't be able to stand back up again. He reached for the mask which attached itself to the tank by a long, rubber tube, with one hand while the other felt for a pulse against her neck.

"Please be alive," he whispered frantically. "Please, please, please be alive."

It was faint, but her heart was beating, increasing the pressure in the vessel with each pump so that it throbbed feebly against his fingers.

A great sigh of relief blew out of him and the world spinning around him slowed, though it didn't stop. "It's OK. You're safe now." he soothed, gently securing the mask onto her face, tightening the straps and adjusting it around her mouth so that it wouldn't fall off, then turning on the flow of air.

Twenty one percent oxygen, seventy eight percent nitrogen, along with traces of other gases including carbon dioxide. It was a near perfect mimic of earth's atmosphere… or at least the way earth's atmosphere had been. Long ago, before any of them had lungs to breathe it.

Fitz heard her breathing in the pseudo-earth air, saw the constant rise and fall of her chest, and felt suddenly as if he too were filling up with something, though it wasn't good air. He'd saved her, and that was enough to rid his soul of the abyss his fear of losing her had blasted into it, even if it didn't rid him of his fear of the infinite vacuum that still waited for him, closer now than it had ever been.

"You're OK," he murmured, raising a trembling hand to lovingly stroke her cheek before leaning down caress it with a soft kiss. She didn't stir but he continued to comfort her, in case she could hear him and because pretending she could was a comfort to him as well.

He was so dizzy, hungrily gasping in the insufficient air, but he knew he didn't have enough time to take an oxygen rich breath himself. He could pass out midway through taking the mask from her and then they'd both die.

Jemma Simmons was not going to die, even if it meant he had to.

So he left her, lungs filling over and over with the good air, and waited, brushing the tops of his fingers down the side of her face.

"That's it Jemma, just keep breathing," he cooed. "Stay strong for me darling."

He'd never called her that before, of course he hadn't it would have been completely inappropriate. She wasn't his girlfriend, even if by some slim chance she wanted to be she didn't know how he felt about her, he'd never had the courage to tell her.

He did now though, when it was probably too late, when she probably couldn't hear him, choosing to use his final words to try anyways.

"I love you," he told her, soft like a gentle breeze, feeling as if he were leaving his body to blow against her skin and rustle her hair one more time before he was carried off. "More than anything in the universe… more..," But he couldn't find the words, his mind was buzzing, thoughts flying past him too quickly to hold onto. "Just… just more…"

Without any kind of warning, the world faded to black and he toppled onto his side, his head landing next to hers.

They lay together on the bare, rocky surface, only inches apart but pulled by invisible forces in separate directions. Simmons' body began to recover, her tissues receiving exactly what they needed while Fitz continued to be deprived of it until the rescue crew arrived.

/-/-/

* * *

><p>So this is my first AU story and I have to say it's a lot of fun :D.<p>

I usually leave a reference to the science fiction television series Fringe in each chapter of my stories but this chapter did not have one. (The next one already does though, and so does the one after that). So if you are a fan (or not) feel free to look out for them :).

The quote in the summary of this chapter is from Fringe, Walter Bishop says it in 1x17 Bad Dreams.


	2. Goldilock's Dozen

_**10 Months Later**_

'_That's it Jemma, just keep breathing,_' she told herself, tugging anxiously at her fingers as she waited outside the door to the council chamber. '_You're going to do fine_.'

The waiting room was large and luxurious, though Simmons was far too stressed, taught as a stretched wire, to appreciate it. A padded bench hugged the blue-grey walls of the square space, except one which was taken up by a window that, right then, showed a magnificent view of Nick, the cold, lifeless mining planet rich in nickel for which their stations had been built. Many of the residents of station 616 spent their time shuttling back and forth to mine the useful ore, along with several other minerals, and a large portion of the station was devoted to refining it.

Mining on the planet was incredibly dangerous, complicated by the fact that miners were faced with treacherous conditions of freezing cold temperatures and a complete absence of oxygen or protection from radiation. Their suits, along with other equipment, offered them temporary protection but accidents were an all too common reality.

The view wasn't always the same, the station was an enormous ring which spun to produce artificial gravity through centrifugal force, not quite as strong as earth's had been, but strong enough to solve most of the problems borne out of living in an environment completely lacking in it.

It wasn't perfect though and there were still detrimental effects on the population's overall health compared to the way things had been long ago, before Simmons had been born, on a beautiful planet, teeming with life, that no one alive had the good fortune to hold a memory of.

She dreamt about it sometimes. She and Fitz had dreamt about it together, while they were awake, colouring each other's imaginations with musings of what it would be like, as well as while they slept, leaning against each other after attempting to work through the night or in adjacent bunks while they traveled across vast, empty space on an expedition, never far enough apart that they had to dream alone.

The way they had to dream alone now.

"I wish they wouldn't keep us waiting so long," she fussed out loud to Skye who sat on the bench, leaning breezily against the wall while she played with her portable communicator, likely chatting with another software enthusiast on one station or another. "I don't have the stomach for this."

Her friend shifted her attention to her, slipping the device into her pocket and getting to her feet before running her gaze over Simmons, taking her in.

She adjusted the collar of her shirt, refolding one side so they were even. "It's always the blacks and greys," she mused, smiling reassuringly despite the heavier emotions Simmons caught in her expression. "You blend in, you stay in shape, it's almost like you're-"

"I'm not a character from one of your old science fiction films," she tutted, though she smiled back, grateful for the distraction. "I take my health seriously and I _like _black and grey, they're suitable for any occasion."

"You used to like colour," Skye mumbled wistfully, so low it might not have been meant to reach Simmons' ears, but it did. She shook herself and pulled up a grin, a glint in her eye. "I wouldn't be surprised if you _had _superpowers, super brainiac powers."

"You're the one whose biology I'm here to talk about," Simmons pointed out, subconsciously pushing back a strand of hair because she'd grown nervous once again about facing the council with her proposal.

Skye scoffed and rolled her eyes. "That's just because I'm an alien," she dismissed. "I'm the subject, not the scientist."

Simmons raised her eyebrows. "I thought the heroine of the film _was _the subject," she reminded her astutely. "And we're all aliens now Skye."

Her friend placed a hand over her heart, pretending to be touched. "You really were watching. I just imagined you spent the whole time thinking about slime." She smirked and Simmons rolled her eyes before they giggled together.

They stopped abruptly as one of the council members cracked open the door and poked his head out.

"Dr. Simmons?" he called.

She gulped, jitters returning, squiggling back inside of her like a small army of worms. "That's me."

He nodded curtly. "Come in."

/-/-/

"Let me clarify this," Ms. Hill requested from her seat behind the long table of council members. "You want us to commit a significant amount of our resources and possibly risk the lives of a handful of our citizens, to search a quadrant we've already combed through?"

'_You're OK_,' Simmons assured herself. '_Just keep breathing._'

"Well… that isn't really what I said," she objected. "I think you've twisted it around a bit-"

"Answer the question Dr. Simmons," she interjected flatly.

She puffed out a breath. "Yes Ma'am."

Ms. Hill exchanged a glance with Ms. Hand who sat beside her, appearing even more skeptical than her colleague. Simmons couldn't help feeling that they were conspiring against her, working as a team when she was all by herself. It wasn't really fair.

"Why?" Ms. Hill asked.

Simmons' stomach twisted nervously but she forced it to untangle, forced herself to stand tall because she'd practiced this. Over and over, in front of the mirror, a well rehearsed speech outlining her argument.

She turned on the the projector, which already had her data chip inserted into it, and its soft light was cast against the wall behind her. "These are the planets sitting in the circumstellar habitable zone of G-type main sequence star 577B- its so-called 'Goldilocks Zone'," she began evenly pulling up an image of the mentioned planets and pointing to the wide, highlighted ring around the star in which they orbited. "Or the distance from the star in which the surface of planets with appropriate atmospheric pressure could support liquid water," she explained. "577B has _twelve _planets in this zone. That's… in itself it's incredible," she marvelled. "That there are so many-"

"Get to the point," Ms. Hand cut her off impatiently. "We all know what the Goldilocks Zone is, any first year child at the Academy would. I believe what Ms. Hill wanted to know was why you think we need to search this area again. You were part of the original team weren't you? Don't you think you did a thorough job the first time? Or are you considering that you miscalculated?"

She spoke calmly but the final questions were a clear, painful jab, and Simmons bit down a sharp retort.

'_Stay strong_.'

"We believe we may have missed something," she informed them tersely, standing tall, refusing to be intimidated. "It's possible that someone was purposely interfering with our D.W.A.R.F.s- our drones wirelessly automated to retrieve field data, data from-"

"Novel planets, yes, we know," Ms. Hand interrupted again.

Simmons grit her teeth, wishing she'd stop.

"Ms. Hand." It was Director Coulson, leaning forward so he could see her from his place at the center of the table. "Do you think you could let Dr. Simmons present her case?" he requested smiling politely. "I'd really like to hear what she has to say."

Ms. Hand narrowed her eyes but fell silent.

Simmons paused for a moment, recollecting her thoughts. "We think someone was interfering with the D.W.A.R.F.s," she continued. "There's some sort of- to use Skye's terminology- scrambler, that we've discovered was confounding our electronic devices, creating erroneous data."

The screen changed to show a diagram of readings collected near the group of planets. Pulses of electromagnetic radiation blanketed the sector, too perfect to be natural.

"What would that mean?" Ms. Hill asked, tilting her head curiously, contrastingly friendly compared to Ms. Hand who continued to scowl at Simmons as if she were wasting her time.

Simmons took a breath, readying herself for her next statement, feeling as if she were poking at an open wound. "It would mean that everything we have on those twelve planets, aside from the one we...landed on… is worthless."

She couldn't help a glance at Ms. Hand. As she suspected the woman wore a small smile, infuriatingly smug. At least she hadn't pointed out that the term 'landed' didn't at all capture what had actually happened. For all her skepticism, she wasn't _that _crude. Besides, Simmons knew that what had happened to Fitz had deeply upset her, poured salt on her own wound.

It was unlikely that Ms. Hand was the only one relishing in her admission. Simmons was well aware of her reputation on station 616, well aware that many of the council members believed she was, at best, reckless. A good number of them had pegged her as unconcerned with the consequences of her actions, consequences which had cut her deeper than any of them knew.

"Who would be interfering with the D.W.A.R.F.s?" Coulson wondered, listening respectfully. Her leader was one of the few people who understood what she'd gone through, understood her pain, which was why she had this meeting in the first place.

Once again, Simmons steeled herself. If her first finding hadn't sent out ripples, her second one certainly would.

"Our best guess is someone, or a group of people, residing on one of the twelve planets," she answered.

There were mutterings amongst the council members, voices thickened by the palpable tension that had oozed into the room like spilled molasses, and Simmons waited as patiently as she could for a coherent response.

To her relief, it came from Ms. Hill. "By 'residing' you mean…?" she inquired, frowning in confusion.

"I mean living on the planet," Simmons confirmed confidently.

More mutterings.

"Dr. Simmons… there is no record of any new planets being successfully inhabited," she reminded her. "Humans haven't lived on anything but space stations for over a century, ever since Earth-"

"Ever since Earth was destroyed, we've become completely reliant on them, " Simmons finished coolly. "I know that, as well as being a biochemist I _am _a Xenobiologist-"

"An entirely theoretical field," Ms. Hand scoffed.

"Not entirely," Coulson corrected, less politely this time. "My daughter is proof that life might exist on at least one planet."

Ms. Hand frowned. "I'm not sure I would call her proof… sir," she objected. "The evidence is-"

"It's science Ms. Hand," Simmons insisted, prickling impatiently. "Skye has foreign bacteria in her body and antibodies in her blood that show she has spent at least a year somewhere far less sterile than a space station. Her bones suggest she's spent at least two years during early development somewhere with near-earth planetary gravity. Changes in gene expression in her skin cells show she was exposed to ultraviolet radiation from a star, _sunshine, _on a daily basis and then there's the bite mark."

"She has a scar on her left arm," Coulson explained, nodding for Simmons to continue.

"The pattern doesn't match up with any registered animal species maintained in any known biosphere," Simmons told them.

"And all that proves that there is life on another planet?" Hand asked, unconvinced.

Simmons hesitated. "Well… I wouldn't say it's beyond an argument… but… it is highly suggestive of it."

"And you think that there are people living on one of these planets who wanted to interfere with your mission?" she pressed, speaking as if the idea were completely ridiculous. "Is that what you told Dr. Fitz when you came back after months away on station 627? That it was their fault? Is that why he's still speaking with you? As best as he can after his terrible ordeal anyway." She seemed truly upset by her final statement, and Simmons knew why, but it didn't stop the sting or the burst of rage in her chest.

"Hand, that's enough," Coulson warned, voice dangerously low.

It _was _enough, enough to push Simmons over the edge, and, at last, she snapped.

"Do you know how I figured this out?" she demanded furiously. "Aside from Director Coulson, do _any of you_ have any idea what I was doing on station 627?"

She didn't receive an answer and she hadn't been expecting to. A few people had the tact to appear uncomfortable.

"I was combing through our mission notes," she hissed. "Every decision we made, every minute detail. I went through it over and over, searching for a shred of information that could help me understand what went wrong that day, searching for _my _mistake, and this," she threw her arm in the direction of the projection, "is what I found." Her eyes burned but she bit down on the side of her cheek until the she could control herself. "I don't expect you to forgive me for what happened, I can't even forgive _myself, _but don't you dare sit there assuming that I haven't been haunted by it every moment since."

By the time she'd finished she was breathing hard, managing with great effort to keep her tears at bay, to remain as close to composed as she could.

No one spoke for an agonizingly long moment, staring blankly back at her.

Finally, Coulson broke the silence. "Thank you Dr. Simmons," he said formally. "Your case has been accepted for review by the council. We'll get back to you within a week."

She swallowed, taking a few more deep breaths through her mouth, moving cool air to the back of her burning throat, before she felt as if she could speak.

'_Stay strong for me darling_.'

Fitz's voice in her head, steady and reassuring, made her brave, despite the painful memory, and she stood tall once more, meeting her leader's kind, reassuring gaze.

"Thank you sir."

/-/-/

"I think that actually went pretty well," Skye told her optimistically when she reemerged from the council chamber. Clearly she'd been listening through the door. "I mean… other than Hand being a complete toilet vacuum."

Simmons fell backwards onto the bench and buried her face in her hands groaning into them. "That was awful, it went horribly," she despaired. "I shouted at a council member. I'm going to be reprimanded."

"I wouldn't say _shouted_ exactly," Skye objected. "It was more of… a strongly worded, slightly louder than it needed to be, defence."

She groaned again. "I'm never going to get clearance now."

"Oh c'mon Simmons, you're _right _about the twelve planets," she persisted, plopping down next to her. "Everyone knows you're right, even if some of them are-"

"You really need to stop calling the council members rude names," Simmons scolded halfheartedly, lifting her head to shoot her a disapproving look.

She shrugged, unconcerned. "What are they going to do? Send me back to my home planet? I mean, my dad might try to ground me, but I'm way too old for that."

"It would be incredible to find your home planet," Simmons answered.

Skye hit her arm, feigning offense.

"Not to send you back obviously," she clarified, rolling her eyes. Skye grinned and she chuckled at her before her face fell and a familiar ache spread across her chest.. "I just… I really need this to come through. I need to make things right."

Skye tilted her head, narrowing her eyes sympathetically. "Hand doesn't know what she's talking about," she soothed, reaching out to rub the side of Simmons' arm. "You used the information you had to make the decision to land there, there was no way you could have-"

"It's fine," she said quickly, not wanting to have this conversion. She made a show of glancing down at he watch. "I'm sorry, but I really do have to rush."

"You late for your date?" Skye mused, scampering along behind her as she set off towards her dwelling to prepare herself.

Simmons blushed, shooing away the butterflies that fluttered hopefully against the bottom of her diaphragm. "It isn't a date," she made herself answer.

"Fine, your 'outing scheduled for the purpose of socializing and bonding'," Skye corrected herself, quoting the air with her fingers. "But you want it to be a date," she added, unrelenting as the imagined winged insects which continued to pester Simmons. "When are you going to tell him?"

"Shh," she hushed, glancing around to be sure no one was listening. "I told you it's complicated... I don't want anyone to know for the moment."

"OK," Skye complied grudgingly, running her fingers across her lips as if zipping them shut. "But… when _are you_ gonna… you know."

Simmons sighed unhappily and the butterflies froze, hazing into a thick fog that heavied her limbs. "When I stop feeling as if everything I do hurts him."

/-/-/

* * *

><p>The Goldilock's zone is a real thing, and it's in a different place for different star types but I am not sure how conducive other star types would be to life (because of lifespan, brightness, and other things I have no idea about) so I kept 577B the same type of star as our sun. (according to wikipedia anyway).<p>

The description about why Skye probably comes from another planet is pretty much just made up. I mean, yes gene expression can be changed by outside influences and gravity vs. no or low gravity does affect your bones, but I have no idea how you would examine someone and find they lived on an Earth-like planet rather than a space station XD. (If you do feel free to let me know).

Thank you to notapepper for helping me out with this chapter (and all the other chapters I've written) :)

**Fringe Reference: **1)627 is the name of the station Simmons spends months on studying the planets around star 577B, it is also the number of the flight in Fringe which lands with everyone on it turned into goop in the pilot episode.

2) Haha, I accidentally put two! The other is the protagonist who wears blacks and greys and stays in shape and was the subject of experiments. This is how Olivia is often described (as well as the other people who were experimented on with cortexiphan). Walter says it's how she was 'programmed' during the course of the experiments so that she'd blend in and be ready.


	3. Robots in Space

Fitz was in a small, windowless, white walled room. It looked a little like a doctor's office, except that it was cluttered with wires and wrenches and a good number of things that would be far better suited to fixing machines than people. Which was good because, though the room was for people, his job was repairing machines.

He was with one of their patients, a young girl named Nina who'd come to them with a malfunctioning synthetic arm. Her natural limb had been removed several months ago to prevent the cancerous tumour growing inside of it from spreading to the rest of her body. The condition was disturbingly common, much more prevalent than it had been over a hundred years ago when most of the human population had live on earth, protected by the planet's atmosphere and magnetic field. An artificial field was standard around most stations but wasn't nearly as powerful a protectant as the real thing had been.

Thankfully, his tiny friend had completely recovered, however many didn't, including Fitz's father who had been taken by the disease when Fitz was only a toddler, too young to hold onto a memory of his face though, of course, he'd seen photographs.

Nina had been mostly silent as he'd patched up the problem (one of the wires had come loose, likely because she'd been too rough with it) which was unusual because ordinarily she couldn't seem to _stop _talking.

She sat on the examination table, her feet shuffling back and forth above the floor she was too small to reach, as if she were swinging slowly on a playground swing. Her shoulders sagged and her eyes remained on the exposed metal of her arm as she followed his instructions and flexed the fingers, mechanically, without any sign of relief or excitement that it was working again.

"Good, I'm glad I didn't accidently give you…uh… give you lazers," he joked, attempting to lighten her heavy expression, unsure what exactly was weighing her down. He chuckled. "I could give you a lazer light if you wanted me too. I could put it just under… just under the… the… um," the word wasn't coming this time but it didn't really matter. She wouldn't have understood him any better if he'd had it. "This thing," he told her, pointing to set of wires just under the secondary power cell. "Then you'd have a… um… a light wherever...um-"

"Mr. Fitz?" she interrupted, lifting her gaze from the arm to him, looking as if she were ready to burst into tears.

'_Damn it, why'd you have to go and tell her you were putting a laser in her arm?'_ he scolded himself. '_She's only eight years old for goodness sake, you've probably terrified her._'

"I won't," he assured her quickly, hoping she wouldn't cry because then he'd have no idea what to do. "I was just… um… it was a…"

"Did they turn me into a robot because I'm broken?" she asked, her voice squeaking.

"What?!" he exclaimed, completely caught off guard by her question. "Where did you hear that pile of elephant dung?"

Elephant dung? Would she even know what an elephant was? Sometimes censoring himself with the patients, especially the younger ones, brought out strange expressions. He was glad Mack wasn't around to hear him, he'd have never heard the end of _elephant dung_.

"Suzy McKale said-" she began but he cut her off.

"Suzy McKale is wrong," he declared firmly. "Do you know what your… what, um…," he held up his hand, mirroring her mechanical one and flexing his own fingers. "What this makes you?"

She sniffed and shook her head.

"Well it makes it so you can eat sandwiches with both hands." He smiled, miming picking up a fairly large sandwich and stuffing it into his mouth. "And so you can jump rope-"

"I don't like jumping rope," she told him, however, to his relief, she no longer appeared on the verge of tears.

"OK… but the point is...You aren't really understanding what I'm trying to tell you- don't worry it isn't just you," he tried another joke, hoping for a smile and receiving a blank stare instead. "Mack says that most of what I say is nonsense."

"That's because you're a doctor," she explained. "They never make any sense."

"What? No… not...um… that isn't… I'm not even a real doctor, not the kind you're thinking of anyway," he objected, frustrated that they'd gotten so far off topic.

"You aren't?" Her eyes widened and she glanced down at her arm worriedly.

"No but I'm… um…" he rushed to explain. "I can do the job… I'm… I'm a…."

"You're a robot doctor?" she guessed.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. Not incredibly technical, but that summed it up nicely. "Exactly."

Her lip trembled and the threat of tears returned. "So… I'm a robot."

"No, that isn't-," he puffed out a breath, wondering how they'd veered so far off track that they'd circled back to the thing they were trying to get away from. He wanted to blame his aphasia, blame the words that slipped away, but he knew that that wasn't what was happening.

She'd asked him something he sometimes worried about himself and it had nothing to do with being a robot. He didn't think Nina's main concern was that she was a had a mechanical part either or, at least, it wasn't the root of her problem. It was the other thing she'd said, about why she thought they needed to turn her into a robot, and the way her classmates at the Academy were treating her because of it.

In many ways, she and Fitz were the same. Maybe she'd feel better if, at least, she knew she wasn't alone.

"Can I trust you with a secret?" he asked, kneeling down so that they were level with each other.

She nodded, listening with round, bright eyes.

"I'm a robot too," he revealed in a hushed voice, acting as if it really were a secret, even though most people on station 616 knew, the adults at least.

She frowned, confused. "Where?" she wondered, leaning on her natural arm to search him over. "I don't see anything, is it under your boots?"

He shook his head, amused as she leaned further and further to the side, as if turning herself upside down would help her spot it. She reminded him a little of Sim- who actually was robot, not a pretend one like they were. "Well it's a good thing you can't see it," he mused. "I'd be in trouble if you could. It's my heart."

"You have a robot part _inside of you,"_ she marveled.

He nodded. "I do. And do you know what that makes me?"

"What?" She was literally on the edge of her seat, as curious as she was anxious now.

"Alive," Fitz told her. He chuckled. "Which I'm pretty… uh… pretty happy about. I can even jump rope-"

"_You _jump rope?" she questioned skeptically, crossing her arms, forgetting about the fact that one of them was synthetic.

"No… it was just an example," he answered, irritated with himself that, of all the cardiovascular activities available, he'd gone with jumping rope. "I think you're focusing on the wrong details here-"

He fell silent because Nina had stopped paying attention. Her gaze left him suddenly and a wide grin stretched across her face. "Daddy!" she chirped, scrambling past Fitz to bounce cheerfully around her father who'd appeared in the doorway.

"All done?" the man asked him, looking up over her head after a warm greeting.

It took Fitz a few seconds to respond because he'd spotted someone else standing near the entrance, watching him with the slightest of smiles on her face, eyes narrowed in what he was sure was affection. Sim, predictably, was sitting contently on her shoulder. Fitz had been wondering where the little rascal had scampered off to.

"Huh? Er… yes… uh… yes she's fine now… I mean… her arm is… uh… it's fixed," he stumbled, dragging his gaze back to him.

Nina's father smiled gratefully, mistakenly assuming the fumbling stemmed from Fitz's condition and dismissing it. "Thank you."

Fitz nodded and they turned to leave.

"Guess what dad?" Nina pipped up, her voice carrying in from the hall. "Mr. Fitz has a _robot _heart."

So much for keeping a secret. He hadn't really expected her to, she couldn't seem to keep anything to herself, or remember that he was Dr. Fitz, not Mr. Fitz. Neither really bothered him though and at least she seemed to have returned to her old self again.

He turned back to Simmons and she took a tentative step towards him. "Hello Fitz," she greeted carefully, and he wondered what she was so afraid of.

He flushed, realizing she'd likely seen his train wreck of an attempt to communicate with Nina. "Er… how… uh… how long were you standing there?"

She smiled warmly. "Long enough. That was sweet."

"It… um… it… it was a… a disaster," he corrected.

"That isn't what I saw," she told him.

Fitz wasn't sure what to say to that.

"Are you ready?" she asked, averting her gaze and pushing back her hair. It was shorter now, though still long enough to anchor behind her ears.

Fitz thought it was gorgeous, a goddess of old Earth shining in the moonlight gorgeous, but he was afraid to tell her that so he'd gone with different instead. _Good _different, of course.

"Yes... sorry I was just... I was... uh... I just need to..." He fidgeted impatiently on the spot.

"Grab a snack?" she suggested quietly.

"No, no we're going to eat, that would be ridiculous."

"Tell Mack you're leaving."

"He knows."

"You need to find-"

"Jemma," he hushed, raising a hand. "Please... could you just let me...?"

Sim tugged at her lips, playfully scolding her before climbing down into her arms.

Simmons absently patted the little creature's head as her face clouded. "Sorry," she mumbled.

Now he'd upset her. This was going better than talking to Nina. And by better, he meant worse. What had happened to them, in the months following the accident, that they'd gone from finishing each other's sentences to being nearly incapable of communicating something so simple? It wasn't only that she'd been gone for most of it, the disconnect had begun even before she'd left and only now, a couple months after her return, were they painstakingly beginning to reestablish the link.

It was difficult and slow but he wanted so badly for it to work, for them to move forward together, and he was beginning to understand that Simmons did too.

"Don't be," he told her, smiling kindly. It wasn't her fault and becoming upset about it had been proven unhelpful already. "I just need... I just _need..._" He raised his eyebrows and stared expectantly at Sim who was butting her head against Simmons' hand, asking for more patts. "Well, you know what I need, come help me you lazy little bolt."

The tiny mechanical creature beeped twice at him, then rose to nuzzle the side of her face against Simmons', lighting hers with a smile, and leapt off her arm, landing on one of the work benches and beginning to place back equipment.

Fitz grinned, even after having Sim for several months he still found watching her little hands work fascinating, perfect tiny metal replicas of a human's, she was adorable.

Unlike medical technology, much of the progress in robotics, including artificial intelligence, had been saved when the Great Disaster had destroyed Earth, leaving the remnants of the human race a strong base to push off from. It reminded him of the ancient latin saying, '_standing on the shoulders of giants.' _As an engineer, he hadn't really been all that concerned by how far behind medicine had fallen because those giants had crumbled away.

That was until the accident of course.

They made do with what they had though, created robotic arms and organs where they couldn't regrow real ones and developed highly sophisticated synthetic therapy animals (living creatures would have been far too expensive and synthetic ones held the advantage in that they could be customized) like Sim, who'd been designed after a long extinct species of monkey. She was a work of art, tuned to him through a neural link and nimble enough to complete tasks he no longer could (though, more and more, he was allowing her to amuse herself with a toy or a stray tool while he took on new challenges). He only needed to think and she would understand, no need for troublesome words.

The little bolt _adored _Simmons, and Fitz told himself it was because she knew the biochemist had helped create her, assisted in linking her to Fitz in the months before she'd left, but Mack liked to tease him that it was the link itself that had caused her affections for the other scientist.

She was fond of Simmons because Fitz was.

Embarrassedly pushing back the thought, he began to help Sim put the tools away, clearing the area for the next patient, which Mack had an appointment with in about two hours. Simmons drifted towards them, hovering anxiously around one of the tables.

"Would you like any help?" she offered once again reflexively touching her hair.

"Nah, we have it under control," he assured her. "Right- Sim NO!" he suddenly screeched, scrambling around her to snatch the device his tiny assistant had been curiously turning over. "Bloody asteroids no! You do not touch that!"

Sim beeped at him, two short squeaks, a question, and he sent her an image of himself, unconscious on the floor after a mispressed button. She let out another low beep and lowered her head, telling him she was sorry.

"You'll know next time," he assured her, already softening. "Just remember, we don't play with things if we don't know what they are, OK?"

"What is that?" Simmons asked, peeking over his shoulder to look while he and Sim resumed replacing the tools.

"A portable EMP device," he muttered hastily under his breath, shuffling away from her and hoping she hadn't understood him.

"Fitz!" she scolded sharply, trailing behind him. "Why would you-"

"Stop fussing, I know what I'm doing," he dismissed. "It's just a... um... a side project."

"A side project that could kill you," she added sternly.

"I know what I'm doing," he repeated, shutting his tool box and clasping it shut grouchily.

Simmons sighed. "OK," she replied, surprising him. She reached out, almost as if she wanted to touch his forearm, but quickly retracted her hand, eyes filled with concern, never leaving his face. "But please be careful, I'm sure I don't have to tell you that the pulse it sends out-"

"Could shut down my heart," he finished, feeling himself soften because he realized her concern had nothing to do with a lack of faith in his abilities. "No, you don't." He chuckled. "Don't worry, it's not that easy getting out dinner with me," he teased, mouth tugging up in a small smile.

She smiled back and he thought he saw the faintest hint of a blush rise to her cheeks. "Get out of it?" she questioned, raising her eyebrows in disbelief. "I've been looking forward to this all day."

More than a hint of a flush coloured Fitz's cheeks. "Yeah… well… um… Supernova's does have excellent strawberry stardust cake. Even if the strawberries aren't real."

"Yes, I'm sure the food will be wonderful too," she agreed, her smile widening, and his heart fluttered happily. She held out her arm, glancing at him uncertainly as she invited him to take it. "Let's go before someone orders the last one."

He took it, unable to keep himself from grinning like a lovestruck idiot, and hoping Mack wouldn't see them leaving together with their arms linked. It had taken him half the morning to convince his friend this wasn't a date, that it was merely a 'scheduled event meant to give them a chance to socialize and rekindle their bond'. He didn't want to spend the entire evening trying to explain it again, especially since his partner kept insisting that that was very close to the actual definition of a date.

What did he know? Did he own some secret love dictionary Fitz didn't know about? Hidden under his list of strange things Fitz said?

Unfortunately, the mechanic was arriving just as they were leaving and as his gaze fell between them he grinned knowingly.

"Hello Dr. Simmons," he greeted.

"Hello Mack," she replied, rigidly polite.

For reasons Fitz hadn't yet uncovered, she grew irritable when his new friend was around. When he asked Mack about it, he'd told him to ask Simmons but Fitz hadn't wanted to risk their newfound connection by bringing up a potentially sensitive topic and so he'd allowed her behavior to remain a mystery, for the moment.

"Have fun," Mack wished them earnestly, waving as he wove around them. "Remember, you have an appointment at eight tomorrow," he reminded Fitz over his shoulder.

Another rush of blood pinkened his face. What exactly did his friend think was going to happen? It was only dinner. Even if he wanted it to be more.

/-/-/

* * *

><p>The Fringe reference this chapter is Nina with the robot arm. Nina Sharp in the series has a robotic arm and she <em>says <em>she lost it to cancer but in her case there's more to it than that.

Fitz has a robot heart because, apparently, spending too much time in a low oxygen environment can damage your heart. I read it on a workplace safety PDF. I have no idea what type of jobs would put you in that situation, but they had a lot of information on it.

I realized I never put it in (though I have since added it) but Sim is designed after a monkey, so she looks like a robotic monkey.


	4. Station 616

"It isn't funny Simmons," he protested, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms, though his mouth twitched and he had to fight down a smile. "The door wouldn't stop closing on me, I had to call, um… I had to call maintenance to get my cart out."

"You're ridiculous" she laughed between mouthfuls. He couldn't help notice that her meal looked amazing, rice with chopped vegetables, real chicken and wonderful smelling spices.

Meat was rare, plants were far easier to grow in mass quantities than animals and adult citizens were only allowed one portion every two weeks (usually poultry). She must have thought the outing was special, to use hers that night.

Fitz chuckled with her despite his embarrassment, untangling his arms and shuffling forwards in his seat, he couldn't help it, her joy was contagious. "So… uh… what are we celebrating?" he asked, nodding his head towards her plate. He'd ordered meat too (a turkey sandwich) because he was happy and he knew he'd enjoy it.

Simmons prodded her food with her fork, smiling shyly down at it and lifted her shoulders in slow shrug. "I'm just happy," she replied.

"Because…?" he wondered.

She raised her head, rolling her eyes. "Because of you silly."

His ears burned, that hadn't been the answer he was expecting and it had initiated a series of pleasant crinkles across his stomach, leaving him suddenly inarticulate. "Oh."

Strangely flustered, she turned her attention to her fork, which she swirled nervously around her plate and chewed on her bottom lip. "I mean… it's nice… to spend time together again," she continued, watching her food. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," Fitz told her, feeling another warm series of crinkles. He paused, debating for a terrifying few seconds if he should tell her exactly _how much_ he'd missed her, how much she meant to him. "Jemma…" he began carefully, feeling as if he were dipping his toes into a tank full of sharks (not that he'd ever seen that much water used for anything but human, plant, or animal consumption, though he did watch a lot of old movies in which the animals appeared adamant on ripping apart anything that came within a few feet of them).

She lifted her gaze to meet his, seeming both frightened and hopeful, which he didn't understand because she had no reason to feel either of those things, but the intensity of her expression was enough that his throat closed up and what he'd wanted to say turned to a stone that sank down deep inside of him, back to the place in his heart it had always been.

"Did… um… did you want a bit of my sandwich?" he offered, quickly improvising and pushing his plate towards her.

Sim paused the game she'd been playing with her lego blocks to chirp irritably at him, exasperated, and he silently told her to shush.

"Oh," Simmons seemed disappointed. What had she been expecting him to say? "Um… sure." Her smile returned. "Would you like to try some of my rice?"

"It looks delicious," he admitted, cutting her off a piece of his sandwich as she scooped a large portion of her meal, complete with two chunks of chicken, onto his plate.

"It's good," he declared after a mouthful.

"So's the turkey," she answered politely.

Something had shifted, a hazy cloud of tension was forming around them, so he changed the subject, needing to dissipate it before it blocked out the sunshine that had started the evening.

"Anything interesting happening in biosphere 23?" he asked casually.

Grateful for the distraction, she smiled and swallowed her food, her tone light and cheerful once more when she answered him. "We've discovered a way to increase oxygen yield from the Oxi-trees," she told him. "We've been using carbon nanotubes embedded in the chloroplasts of the leaves."

"To increase the… uh… the, the…. to help with photosynthesis?" he guessed and by the way her grin widened, he knew he'd gotten it right.

"By acting as antennae," she put forth, excited now that she was talking about something she had a passion for.

"To help the chloroplasts of the plant capture light outside their usual range," he realized proudly, matching her enthusiasm. It was a brilliant idea.

She nodded, bubbling adorably, little spheres of happiness popping all over him and filling his heart with joy. "Exactly," she chirped. "Actually, I was wondering if you could spare a few hours one day to come look, I think we could benefit from your input on the nanotube's design and it'd be lovely to have you there."

"You want my help?" he asked, surprised, and she nodded enthusiastically.

"If you aren't too busy-" she began, fidgeting a little as she turned nervous again.

"I'm not," he told her swiftly. "Besides, for you, I could find time."

The sparkle returned to her eyes. "Thank you. I'm sure you'll love our lab, it's got a full view of the biosphere. You've never seen so much green."

"I'm sure I will," he agreed contently.

They beamed at each other, the sunshine returned.

"So, what's next?" he wondered enthusiastically. "After supper I mean."

She shook her head, smiling slyly. "It's a surprise."

/-/-/

"I've never been to a craft fair," Fitz commented awkwardly, his arm once again linked with Simmons' as they walked down the wide, communal hallway of the station towards the receiving bay where the fair was taking place. She'd offered hers to him again when they'd left the restaurant, her silent way of telling him she was glad to have him beside her, that beside him was where she wanted to be. "What do they… uh… what do they… do we make crafts or look at them?"

She chuckled. "They sell them actually."

"Oh," he replied, surprised. "I guess that makes sense, considering they needed to travel all the way here from… uh… wherever they're from. Using the jumpgates is expensive, creating wormholes uses up a lot of electricity, not to mention the amount of rare materials needed to create the gate itself."

Simmons shrugged. "Everything is paid for by their guilds. It's a wonderful opportunity to travel," she added cheerfully.

"Just like going on an expedition back to star 577B would be," Fitz agreed, eyeing her meaningfully. "I know _I _wouldn't pass up an invitation for that."

She sighed, knowing full well what he was hinting at and her mood quickly dampened. "Fitz…" she began, voice small, but she trailed off, not knowing what to say because she had no explanation for him. None that he would understand.

"I'm _ready_ Simmons," he insisted, abandoning subtlety. Sim chirped from his shoulder, nodding in agreement. "We're ready," he added, momentarily amused as he glanced at her but sobering when he returned his gaze to Simmons who couldn't help but tighten her grip on his arm just a little bit. "Don't you _want _me to come with you this time? You… you don't... . you don't think I'd be useless… do you?"

The question scared him, she could tell, and it pierced her like the blade of a knife that it had even occurred to him to ask it.

"Of course I don't," she replied firmly and without hesitation. "I _know _you're ready I just…" He was staring at her, eyes round and questioning, almost hurt, and she couldn't look at him so focused on the floor in front of her instead. "Can we… can we talk about something else? Please?"

"OK," he mumbled gloomily.

She nudged him lightly with her elbow, trying to smile. "I'm not even sure if there _is _an expedition yet and we've been having such a wonderful evening," she added warmly. "Can't we go back to that?"

Their eyes met, hers pleading, and she wondered if she looked the way he had a moment ago because he averted his gaze and let out a long sigh.

"Yeah, alright." He turned back to her, smiling shyly. "It… it uh… it has been a wonderful evening… hasn't it?"

A wide grin spread across her face and a gentle flame warmed her chest at his expression of joyful optimism. She knew the conversation wasn't over, he wanted very much to go with her, but at least it had been put aside for the time being.

They were doing quite well this time, easily making physical contact when not so long ago a quick graze had made them flinch and shooting each other wide grins that would have seemed unthinkable only a month ago. Her mother had told her once that love was the most powerful thing in the universe, stronger than gravity or diamond, and Simmons felt that every moment with Fitz by her side confirmed that to be true because the thing that pulled them together was infinitely more powerful than anything that could attempt to pull them apart.

"It's not over yet," she reminded him, skipping a little as she tugged him along. "You're going to love the craft fair, you'll see."

/-/-/

The receiving bay was nearly unrecognizable. Though it still kept the same grey walls and high ceiling, (and, of course, the two massive round jumpgates situated at either end) it was now packed full with people, signs and artisans offering up their work.

Some stood with bright, welcoming smiles, others sat in chairs, waving invitingly at passers by. Their artwork was remarkable. Paintings with dazzling colours cluttered one wall, elegant stone carvings littered a table top, and racks of sweaters and hats stood in rows, soft, likely synthetic, wool, woven or knitted into pleasant patterns. One man sold incredibly convincing faux antlers and horns, including the horn of a ram which was inscribed along the side with what Simmons realized was the number phi.

Aside from the clothing, it all looked incredibly fragile.

"Don't touch anything," she heard Fitz whisper sternly to Sim, who was already crouching, about to leap off his shoulder to investigate. She beeped grouchily at him. "I'll find you a nice new toy," he promised, chuckling at her, but she beeped again and jumped over to Simmons.

"I'm not letting you touch anything either," she mused, wiggling a finger against the plate behind Sim's ear. The little robot didn't seem to mind though and clambered onto the top of her head, chirping merrily and messing up her hair.

"Sim that isn't… you're being very rude, climbing all over people," Fitz scolded but she gave two sharp beeps, still irritated with him, and remained where she was.

"It's fine," Simmons laughed. "She isn't very heavy."

"She was built to be light but sturdy," he agreed. "And apparently also to have a mind of her own," he added, frowning at Sim, though Simmons knew he'd never ask them to change her.

She laughed again before she tugged on his arm, distracted by a table of holo-photos. "Oh look Fitz! These must have been taken using a telescope, I don't think anyone's ever gotten so close to a black hole."

"You're right miss," the merchant told her, smiling as they reached the stand. "We have a pretty powerful one back on 817, and we're closer to a black hole than any other station, within reason of course." He chuckled. "Wouldn't want to get _too _close to one of those monsters."

"You're an excellent photographer," she commented earnestly, clicking the button on the flat metal plate to skim through the three dimensional images projected above it while Fitz watched curiously beside her and Sim squirmed on top of her head for a better view.

"Thank you," he replied, smile widening. "They look better in the dark, but I couldn't swing having the lights turned off." He chuckled and winked merrily at them.

"That would probably cause an accident," Fitz agreed, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards and the merchant seemed confused by his comment before he realized he was joking.

He laughed again. "It probably would. There're some hairpins that hold single images," he let them know, indicating the basket of pins, each decorated with a jewel, a star or a flower at one end. "Just twist the pendant," he instructed, lifting one out and showing them. It was tipped with a delicately carved blue rose and, when turned, it projected a dazzling image of the real flower, petals dotted with droplets of water. "Feel free to sort through them," he offered, turning it off before placing it back with the others.

Simmons and Fitz amused themselves, trying out the various pins. They even allowed Sim to investigate a few, after a firm warning from Fitz that she be careful. There were tulips and fluffy white dandelions whose seeds blew in the wind in a constant loop, as well as stunning red clouds of gas suspended in space, still and shining. One pin ended in a round, blue and green jewel and when Simmons turned it the image of a slowly rotating, glowing blue planet, hovered before her eyes.

"It's Earth," she breathed, unable to take her eyes off it. Very few holo-photos of the planet remained, Simmons herself had never seen one. "Fitz, it was so beautiful." There was an ache in her voice, despite her awe, at what they had lost.

"My great grandfather took that one," the man told them proudly. "It's been in the family ever since, everyone has a copy at home."

"Do you want it?" Fitz asked softly beside her and she let her gaze leave the image of Earth to rest on his face.

Her heart melted at his expression, sweet and warm like toasted marshmallows and filled with love and wonder as he starred, not at Earth, but at her. If someone had a holo-photo of him, in that moment, she'd have bought a dozen pins.

"I couldn't ask you to-" she objected, trying not to sound flustered.

"You're not," he insisted quickly, cheeks pinkening as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm offering."

She smiled warmly and nodded. "Thank you."

"Good choice," the vendor agreed, exchanging Fitz's credit for the pin. "You have wonderful taste miss."

"You and your family take wonderful holo-photos," she answered, earning herself another grin.

Fitz held the pin in front of her, lifting his hand hesitantly, his cheeks still coloured with rosey pink. "May I…?" he asked, motioning towards her hair.

She nodded and smiled encouragingly. "Yes please."

Very carefully, he pushed back the hair on one side, making the skin of her face buzz pleasantly where the edge of his hand grazed it and she watched his wrist, unwilling to risk their eyes meeting and giving herself away, as he gently clasped the pin around a thick lock so that it was kept behind her ear.

The entire thing lasted less than half a minute, much too short, and when he pulled away from her she wanted to pull him back, surround herself with his scent and press her cheek into his palm, her lips against his.

"How is it?" she inquired, not really caring about the way the pin looked in her hair as much as searching for something to say that sounded normal.

"Beautiful," he answered, though it didn't seem as if he were looking at the pin.

'_Beautiful_,' she thought, staring back at him. He was like a miniature Earth, dazzling from a distance and wondrous up close, an entire world she could explore her entire life and still find new new thing to marvel at within.

She re-linked her arm through his, happier than she'd been in a very long time. "Thank you Fitz."

/-/-/

As director, Coulson received the news before the rest of the station, an alert highlighted in red that appeared on his portable communicator.

He was sitting at his desk and had been looking over Simmons' proposal, searching for a way to convince Hand that it wasn't a waste of resources. He suspected the request Simmons had made on page four would play a part in swaying the other councillor's decision, but his attention had shifted away from the file when the alert had come in.

'_Disaster on Station 819. No survivors. Jumpgate travel to the station has been terminated.' _

Though his expression remained neutral, a wave of horror left him nauseous and his hand shook, barely noticeable, as he opened it.

/-/-/

* * *

><p>The Fringe reference is the ram's horn with number phi written on it. It is kind of an extra Glyph for the show. It doesn't represent a letter but it does show up before the commercial break of a few episodes.<p>

Jumpgates are basically Stargates haha. I have put them in because space is really, really, really, super big and Ididn't want them to have to hibernate and spend a bunch of years going everywhere.

The use of carbon nanotubes to increase the efficiency of photosynthesis is something that people are actually doing (but not to increase oxygen production by plants, they have a whole list of other uses they have planned.) I'd put the link, but I don't think the site would be happy with me if I did.


	5. Fading Away

It was on the news that night, solemnly spoken by a teary eyed reporter, doing her best to quell her emotions.

'_Six hours ago station 819 lost power. All systems turned off, life support included, and we have been unable to contact them. Their sister station, 817, sent a rescue shuttle out shortly after the incident as 819's jumpgate was inoperational. A search of the station has found no survivors. Estimated casualty count: 45, 662.' _

"All those people," Mack gasped, shaking his head in horror from the other end of the sofa. "This is crazy."

"Probably a… a flare from the star," Fitz mumbled, unsure what else to say. "A blast of radiation, knocking out their systems. 819 is really close to a red dwarf."

'_Or the system simply malfunctioned_,' he thought grimly, stomach churning. He tried not to imagine all those people, freezing and gasping for air as the temperature dropped and the oxygen concentration dwindled.

Sim nudged his arm, sensing his distress and he patted her head, telling her without words that something terrible had happened. She cooed softly and pressed herself against his leg, comforting him while they continued to watch the rest of the news in silence, until Mack told him he was going to bed.

He asked him if he was OK and, when Fitz said he was, he patted his shoulder and smiled sadly, knowing he wasn't.

"Don't stay up too late buddy," he recommended, before heading towards his room.

Fitz's mum called, asked him if he was alright, and he lied to her, saying that he was, but they still talked for almost an hour. She lived on another station, the one Fitz had been born on (which, by chance, happened to be the sister station of the one Simmons had been born on). He'd lived there with her until the Search for Homeworlds Inter-station Exploration and Logistics Division (SHIELD) had recruited him when he was seventeen and brought him to station 616.

He'd been the youngest recruit they'd ever had until Simmons came along a week later however, after their first introduction, he'd decided he didn't mind losing his record. Even back then he'd known Jemma Simmons was spectacular, that meeting her was an incredible turn of good fortune.

His thoughts drifted to his old friend as he said goodbye to his mother, and he was wondering if he should call her, if she would _want _him to call her, when there was a short, quiet knock at the door.

Puzzled, because it was already past 23:00, he rose to answer and, to his astonishment, found Simmons, fidgeting nervously, a shadow against the dim night-cycle lights.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out immediately, face scarlet and turning to leave. "You were probably about to go to sleep… I shouldn't have… it's just with the…" she bit her lip and blinked down at the floor. "I can go..."

Fitz didn't want her to go. He wanted to press his face into her shoulder and surround himself with the safety of her embrace, keep her safe in his arms, even if the protection was only an illusion.

He couldn't do that, not anymore, but she didn't need to leave either.

"Would you like to come in?" he offered, stepping aside and sliding the door open the rest of the way invitingly.

She nodded quickly, eyes bright, and shuffled inside.

He led her to the sitting room and they sat together on the sofa, inches apart but careful not to touch. Sim jumped onto Simmons' lap, chirping softly in concern and looking to Fitz for answers. He gave the same explanation he'd given her earlier and she seemed at least to understand that they were upset because people had died.

"Would you like… uh… some tea?" he asked after both of them had spent a minute staring blankly forward.

"You don't need to," she told him numbly. "It's late."

"I don't mind," he assured her. He lifted his hand, wanting to reassure her by patting the side of her arm, but the invisible force field between them had hummed back to life and he couldn't breach it, so instead he rose to prepare them both a cup.

"Did you… did you walk?" he wondered as the water boiled and he took down his best mugs from the cupboard in the kitchen which was open to the sitting room, peering at the back of her head over the counter.

"I took the shuttle," she replied softly, turning to look back at him and smiling weakly. "It was faster."

"Ah. That'd make more sense," he realized.

His hand shook, worse than usual, as he poured the tea and switching to the other didn't improve things much. He would have called Sim to help but she'd curled up against Simmons who was steadily petting her back, taking comfort in the small creature's presence, so he left her and tried not to spill anything, telling himself that he'd come far enough to pour his tea himself anyway. He'd been doing it for months now, since before Simmons had left, and it had never been this hard.

When he was finished, he returned to the sitting room and placed the mugs down on the short, glass table.

"Thank you," Simmons murmured.

"It was no trouble," he told her.

Neither of them touched their drinks.

"They were very close to the star," she pointed out, voice low and flat. "Much closer than their sister station."

Fitz wanted to do something, anything, to make them stop hurting, stop being afraid, but he didn't know how to fix it. How did you fix such tremendous loss? How were you suppose to stop being afraid when you were living in the crumbling remnants of civilization? What had happened on 819 could happen anywhere, whether it was from a flare or an asteroid or human error or simply the breakdown of a system that was never meant to be a permanent solution, it didn't matter. Humans weren't meant to live in space. This had happened before and it would keep happening until all of them were gone, the final wisps of Earth's life fading away.

They'd lived their entire lives with that knowledge, but it didn't make it any easier to bear. Working with SHIELD had been more than an exciting, engaging career. It had been hope.

"It could be a flare star," she went on, rambling now because she was frightened. "How would they have known before they built the station? It's a bit like the way Pompeii on Earth was built near a volcano but no one had any idea… well… the people of Pompeii didn't know there _were _volcanoes so… so maybe that's a bad comparison…"

"Jemma…" he soothed, lifting his hand again and letting it hover in front of him but feeling the cursed barrier push back against it.

He couldn't break it. She did instead, shattering it to pieces by leaning forward to embrace him, pushing the side of her face into his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her, realizing that she'd needed this as much as he had, as he rested his cheek against the back of her head. She was warm and she felt strong even though she was scared, surrounding him, pulling him into her and giving him courage.

"Can you stay?" he asked, hearing his own desperation. It was as if a new force field had formed around them, powered by the sparks that now shot between them, keeping the monsters at bay, and if she left it would disappear, leaving them both vulnerable.

She nodded against him and tightened her grip. "Yes. Please."

They stayed up, distracting themselves with cartoons and occasional quiet exchanges about physics or chemistry or which character they thought was the funniest, doing their best not to think about what had happened, though the horror of it lingered like a sour taste in the back of their throats. Her arm, pressed solidly against his, kept him from choking on it.

After a couple of wide yawns from both of them, Sim found a blanket and hauled it to the couch with her tiny hands to drape over them. It took her a while to tuck it around them but she was determined, chittering to herself as she thought out the best way to spread the enormous piece of fabric over the two beings which were much larger than herself, all the while denying help by impatiently shooing their hands away.

Her antics sent the pair of them into a fit of giggles, which ended in more yawns and then more giggles, bouncing off the tightly coiled springs their fear had left and fueled by their exhaustion. Fitz leaned his head on Simmons' shoulder, shutting his eyes for a moment as Sim made herself a nest in the blanket between them.

"Thank you sweetie," he mumbled, reaching out blindly until he found the robot's head which she pushed against his hand.

Simmons curved her arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer before pecking a kiss on the top of his head that lifted the corners of his mouth into a small, sleepy smile. "I think she's learning from you," she told him fondly.

"Nah, she'd have more bad habits if she were," he chuckled.

She chuckled too and kissed his hair once more before resting her cheek on his head. "Fitz…" she murmured, nervous, as if she were about to say something important and he opened his eyes, listening. He felt her take a deep breath and her voice changed, calmer now. "What would you most want to see, on Earth, if you could go there?"

That wasn't what she'd been about to say, it wasn't big enough to hold the weight of the way she'd tentatively called his name, but he let her believe he thought it was.

"A sunset," he told her immediately, because he already knew, and so did she. He smiled. "I suppose your answer is still a sunrise?" he ventured.

"Yes," she replied.

"What's the difference again?" he asked drowsily. "I mean apart from the… uh… the… the, you know, the difference."

To his amazement, what he'd said made sense to her. Maybe because he'd already asked the question before, back when they'd understood each other without needing words.

"I think the colours are different," she mumbled, beginning to nod off.

"Yeah," he agreed. "We'll have to see when we go."

He hadn't meant Earth. He'd meant the new planet, the one they were going to find together because he was going with her on the expedition even if he had to hide in the cargo hold.

Soon her light, steady breathing told him she was asleep and he followed close behind her, dreaming beside her for the first time in far too long.

/-/-/

"We can't ignore the fact that what happened on station 819 could happen anywhere," Coulson asserted, somberly looking over each of them in turn, gaze resting on Hand for a few extra seconds before moving on. "It isn't the first incident and it won't be the last. It's a grim reminder of what we should never be allowed to forget- that human beings cannot survive in space indefinitely."

Not a single member objected, instead they sat in silence, letting it sink in like sludge water into a sponge.

"What about terraforming?" Mr. Blake put forth.

"We're years away from understanding the process," Ms. Weaver replied heavily. "And even once it's been perfected we'd still need to find a suitable planet, and the process might take decades, centuries even."

"We don't have decades," Coulson told them. "The news is calling it a flare, but that isn't what happened. The truth is, the station's life support failed. It wasn't meant to last as long as it did… and neither is ours, neither is anyone's. We need to find a planet to colonize, sooner rather than later."

"And you think Dr. Simmons is the one who's going to find it?" Ms. Hand questioned, lifting an eyebrow.

He frowned at her, patience quickly thinning. "She's gotten closer than anyone ever has to finding one," he answered sternly.

"Well, she's certainly gotten _closer_," she remarked dryly.

"Yes she has," he agreed sharply. "She was in that crash too, she was badly injured and she almost lost someone very important to her. _If _she really did make a mistake, which I don't personally believe she did, she's sure as hell learned from it. She's going to be twice as careful and she's more invested in this than anyone else, not to mention more knowledgeable and experienced. She is exactly who we need leading this expedition."

"If the crash shook her so badly, why'd she only wait three months before taking the next jump back to the sector where it happened?" Ms. Hand argued, mistaking courage for recklessness. "Sir, are you absolutely sure she is the person you want leading the expedition?"

"She spent four months in that sector ensuring that it would never happen again," he replied smoothly. "So yes, I'm sure." He returned his attention to the rest of the council members. "Does anyone else have something to say, or should we begin the voting."

They stared back stonily. No one spoke up.

"Good." He smiled. "All those in favour of allowing Dr. Simmons to lead an expedition to investigate the twelve planets around the star 577B, please raise your hands."

Every hand rose immediately, except for Ms. Hand's.

"Hand?" He raised his eyebrows. "We need a unanimous decision, if you don't raise your hand we can't send her."

She sighed and folded her arms in front of her, leaning forward. "I want to make it clear that I do not approve of choosing Dr. Simmons to lead… or go at all," she told him firmly.

"I think you've made it pretty clear," he kidded, glancing around to see a few of the others smile briefly, amused.

She looked as if she'd swallowed an angry cat-bot. Or like she was an angry cat-bot. "However… given the circumstances… and the fact that here is no _viable_ alternative…" Slowly, as if she had to force it through thick, foul smelling jelly, her hand rose up. "I'll give you my vote."

Coulson smiled again, pleased with her answer despite it being covered thoroughly in 'only because we have no other choice'.

"Perfect, let's begin rounding up the crew."

/-/-/

Coulson wasn't surprised when, after the meeting, Hand followed him out, walking briskly beside him.

"You think I'm being irrational," she accused evenly, mouth set in a thin line.

"I think you're allowing your anger to cloud your judgement," he replied calmly. "What happened ten months ago was an accident-"

"I watched my best friend die because of an _accident,_" she interjected, stressing the final world bitterly. "He developed cancer because someone made a miscalculation that shut down the radiation shielding in his shuttle and didn't notice it for three weeks. He died because someone was careless, because they didn't do their job correctly, and I promised him that I would protect his family-"

"Simmons is not Tobias Ford," Coulson reminded her firmly, forcing patience because he remembered how close she'd been with Atticus Fitz, which was something in itself because Hand had never been keen on making friends. "She was torn up about what happened and I don't even believe that it was her fault. She's been punishing herself everyday since, she doesn't deserve the tremendous guilt she's placed on herself and she doesn't need you adding onto it."

"If she's so torn up about it why is she preparing to drag him back out there?" Hand demanded. "Sir, it isn't safe. Losing Fitz almost killed Maggie and when Leopold was hurt… she can't lose her son too."

They'd stopped and Coulson turned towards her to see that her eyes were bright before she blinked roughly and stared, fixedly, at a point on the floor in front of her. She'd been there, through all of it, keeping her promise to protect her friend's family and he knew she was almost as fond of them as she'd been of Atticus. It didn't excuse her hostility, but it must have been hard watching them suffer all over again.

He felt himself soften. "She isn't going to lose him," he told her, gentler now, trying to let her know that he understood without telling her he knew she was afraid. "And Simmons specifically requested that Fitz not be put on the second expedition."

Hand gazed up at him, frowning in confusion. "Why? He's doing much better and he has more experience than anyone else, except Dr. Simmons, he'd be a valuable asset."

He made sure their eyes met before he spoke. "Why do you think?"

/-/-/

* * *

><p>So this probably sounds a lot like the 100, which it is definitely inspired by. (That, Titan AE and Interstellar). All very good.<p>

They go by 24 hour time because they have no day/night so it seemed like it'd become easier to do that.

Terraforming really does take a long time. Also, one idea for how to do it is to bombard the planet with icy comets (seriously).

Flare stars are red dwarfs that can undergo dramatic increases in brightness due to flares which are thought to be the same thing as solar flares. Solar flares can and have knocked out power on Earth and it is possible for a massive one to cause major problems.

I actually didn't have a Fringe reference for this chapter. Or if there is one, I forgot about it. (I do that sometimes, so sometimes I end up with 2)

Thank you to Notapepper for helping me keep my work free from errors :)

Happy Thanksgiving.


	6. Mistakes

**Day of the Crash, 5 minutes after impact**

She awoke to a sharp, throbbing pain in her head, disoriented and unable to move or even open her eyes. Everything hurt, as if she'd been shaken in a giant metal can, smashed against the walls.

Something was on her face, a mask into which flowed a steady supply of air.

Panic took hold and hazy questions flashed in and out of focus as she struggled to remain awake, to lift her eyelids. _What happened? Where am I? Why do I need a mask?_

"_You're OK." _

It was Fitz, his voice soft and gentle, calming her instantly, and she felt his hand stroking the side of her face, over and over, soothing away her fear, though the pain remained.

Again she tried to open her eyes but the ground was spinning out from under her and it was already taking most of her strength to stay conscious. That was alright though, she was going to be OK, Fitz wouldn't let anything happen to her, so she devoted her energy to focusing on the edge of his hand moving across her skin and his familiar voice that kept her from spiraling away.

"_That's it Jemma, just keep breathing. Stay strong for me darling." _

'_OK,' _she thought, her heart swelling joyfully, despite her fear and discomfort, when he called her darling_. 'I can do that love.'_

It was becoming easier, each breath less of a struggle, and her clouded mind was beginning to clear. Maybe it was the air that had weakened her, maybe the planet they'd landed on hadn't been as rich in oxygen as she'd thought.

Not landed. They'd crashed, she remembered now. Thankfully they were both alright. She thought she might have broken a few ribs, that the blow to her head had given her a concussion, but it wasn't anything she wasn't going to recover from, and Fitz sounded fine.

"_I love you." _

Her chest tightened and a wonderful warmth seeped through it. She wished she could speak, tell him she loved him too. She would, the moment she woke up properly she would.

"_More than anything in the universe…"_

The warmth quickly died, replaced by cold fear. Something was wrong, his breathing had become ragged, words slurred slightly. His voice should have been muffled, by his mask, but it wasn't. How had she missed that?

"..._more…_"

Why wasn't he wearing a mask? He was gulping the air now, voice barely a whisper, and she fought to move so she could help him but her bruised, aching body wasn't responding yet. It was like being in a nightmare.

"..._Just… just more_…"

There was a thud and she knew he'd fallen over, that he'd blacked out beside her, and the panic returned, blotting out everything else.

After what felt like far too long, she managed to open her eyes and push herself up, body screaming in protest, to find Fitz beside her, his skin pale and tinted blue.

"No," she choked, pushing him onto his back and hovering her hand over his mouth and nose. He wasn't breathing. She checked his neck for a pulse but she couldn't find it. "No!" she shouted, furious as she felt her strength return and tears sting her eyes.

He needed to survive, she couldn't live if he didn't. The universe wouldn't make sense anymore.

Frantically, she began pushing down on his chest with both hands, squeezing his heart so that his blood would continue to flow through his body. He wasn't breathing but she tore off the mask and covered his mouth and nose anyway, just in case, in case he wheezed in another breath while she beat his heart for him.

The bad air made her dizzy but she kept going, pausing every so often to breathe, stealing the mask away for only a moment because if she collapsed now they'd both die.

Leopold Fitz was not going to die, not while she was still alive to stop it.

Where the hell was the rescue crew?

"Wake up," she begged, her voice gritty and high and frighteningly unfamiliar, knowing he wouldn't, that it'd be a miracle just to get him breathing again. He couldn't hear her, she knew that, but she forced herself to be brave anyway and when she spoke next her words were strong and steady. "You. Are. Not. Dying." She told him, pushing hard on his chest at each word. He remained heartbreakingly still and unresponsive but she couldn't give up, she refused to let him go. "Breathe. Please breathe."

Without warning, someone jerked her away. Strong arms held her as a mask was secured around her face. She didn't have time for this, his heart wasn't beating, she needed to keep forcing it to pump or he wouldn't make it.

"Let me go!" she screamed, struggling fiercely until she realized it was May, saw Trip working over Fitz and she stopped, leaning against her friend and sobbing quietly as she watched the doctor power up the defibrillator.

He shocked him once, the jolt causing his body to spasm and Simmons fought down the need to rush forward, take Fitz's hand or do something to tell him it was going to be OK, because she knew she'd only be in the way.

Trip felt quickly for a pulse before cursing and recharging the defibrillator. "C'mon buddy, not today," he urged.

"C'mon Fitz," May muttered under her breath but Simmons couldn't speak. It was as if she'd turned to stone, as if her own heart had stopped.

He shocked him again and this time, when his fingers pressed against the side of his neck, he let out a sigh of relief and turned to them, smiling weakly.

"He's alive."

She closed her eyes, the ice around her muscles melting and flowing away in a rush as they loosened and her own heart defrosted.

'_He's alive.' _

/-/-/

**Present**

Simmons felt a soft, warm body leaning against hers and, before she'd opened her eyes, she knew it was Fitz.

Her eyelids lifted and she saw the top his head, still tucked against the front of her shoulder, nearly touching her chin. His legs were sprawled out in front of him, falling off the side of the sofa underneath the blanket Sim had brought for them, and the little creature had curled herself into a ball on his lap, appearing asleep as her systems rebooted and upgraded based on her experiences the previous day. It was a little like dreaming actually, or at least it seemed like it.

Simmons remembered her own dreams, pleasant even if they made little sense now that she was awake. She'd been watching a sun, low on the horizon of a new world, shining over a vast expanse of water, an ocean, and debating with Fitz whether it was rising or setting. He'd argued for rising, because of the dew that carpeted the grass their blanket had been spread over, but she'd countered that it might have been raining earlier and that this was definitely a sunset because the light was fading not growing. However, the moment the words left her mouth they'd shifted to standing in a field, grey clouds overhead, and large, freezing droplets of water had began falling from the sky. The pair laughed in delight, turning their faces upwards to feel them explode and splash on their cheeks. Through the roar of the downpour Fitz called her name and when she'd turned to face him he'd kissed her.

Now the real Fitz snored loudly, then squirmed into her, readjusting his position while still asleep, and she wondered if he was dreaming about suns and oceans and rain too. She wondered if he dreamt about kissing her.

She debated waking him up so she could check the time but there was nothing urgent enough to pull her away from the serenity of him sleeping against her so she pecked a kiss above his ear and settled the side of her head on top of his, closing her eyes contently.

Her portable communicator beeped loudly in her pocket, startling him awake so he jerked upwards, knocking their heads together with a painful _thwap_, and she cursed it for ruining the moment, wishing she could throw the damn thing out the airlock. Why hadn't she set it to silent?

"Ow- Sorry!" he exclaimed when he realized what he'd done, beet red and rubbing the place where their heads had collided. "I'm so sorry Simmons, are you OK? Does it hurt?"

"I'm fine," she assured him as she took his hand, gently moving it so she could see what he was covering. It didn't seem like he'd been hurt too badly. "You?"

He shrugged. "I've had worse." The corners of his mouth twitched and she realized he was was making a joke about the accident. He was _joking_ about it.

She smiled back, joining in and touching the place just above her hairline that still bore the ridge of a scar. "Me too."

They chuckled together before he nodded towards her communicator. "What was that?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered, lifting the thin plastic so she could read what was displayed on the screen.

_Your proposal has been accepted. Your jumpgate travel to station 627 in two days to meet up with the crew will be covered. A ship departing for star 577B will be waiting at the station. _

"Two days," Fitz commented flatly beside her and her heart sank as she realized he'd been reading over her shoulder. "That doesn't give you a lot of time."

The atmosphere of the room had changed completely, once light and content, it was now smogged with tension and the promise of an unpleasant conversation, one she'd been avoiding up until this point, foolishly casting it aside as if it wasn't going to be had.

"It… it's probably because of the-" she began quietly.

"Because of what happened on 819," he finished, an edge to his tone. "Yeah, I'm sure they'll… that… that they're going to want their best and brightest looking for solutions."

A cold lump formed in her throat and suddenly she really wished she had thrown the cursed thing out an airlock, space pollution aside.

"Fitz…" She reached out, her hand intending to meet his shoulder, but he shuffled away, carrying Sim with him so she wouldn't fall.

"Ask me to come with you," he challenged, meeting her gaze, hard and determined.

Simmons looked away. "I can't," she mumbled.

"Yes you can," he objected stubbornly. "Just ask me, if _you _ask for me they'll put me on the expedition, I know they will."

She stared back painfully, unable to find a response. Her mind had gone blank, numb from the icy fluids that had began to circulate through her. How had things gone so wrong, so quickly?

"It's easy," he pressed, voice made of stone. "All you need to say is-"

"Fitz stop," she protested miserably.

"No," he corrected severely. "That's not it. All you need to say is 'Fitz, come with me.'"

How could she ask him to come with her again? She couldn't, she couldn't do it.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, speaking before she had a chance to think her words over. "You can't go on the expedition."

"Yeah? And why not?" he shot back, bristling and rising to his feet. "You keep saying I've gotten better, that I can… can… that I can _do things _now. You keep saying you believe in me but how am I suppose to believe that when you won't even let me come with you on a project we started _together._ This is _our _expedition Simmons, not just yours and you won't even let me come! Why?" He shook his head and folded his arms against his body, clearly hurt. "Because you don't think I'm good enough anymore?"

The accusation hit her like a punch to the gut. He couldn't be more wrong, but she didn't know how to convince him of that without letting him join her, and she couldn't do that. It wasn't because he wasn't ready, or that she thought he wasn't smart enough, or quick enough or _anything _enough. It was because _she _wasn't strong enough to risk losing him again.

She stood, reaching her hand out again before quickly retracting it. "Fitz that's not it," she objected feebly.

"Then what is it?" he demanded.

He didn't look angry, anger would have been easier to bear than the pain in his eyes when they stared back at her, as if she were breaking his heart, and she turned away because it was breaking hers too to see it.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I can't do this." She wove around him, walking to the door and opening it to step back out into the hallway, ready to catch the next shuttle home.

He let her go wordlessly and she left without a backwards glance.

/-/-/

**4 Days after the Crash**

"I'm reading too fast, aren't I?" Simmons guessed when Fitz had been staring blankly into space for over a minute.

He lay in the hospital of station 627, hooked up to an IV, a clip on his finger to measure his heart rate, looking pale and grey and incredibly tired. His eyes drifted to her, glassy and sad, and, very slowly, he nodded. "S-sorry," he apologized weakly.

She shook her head roughly, eyes burning. "Don't apologize," she ordered, voice high. "I- I can slow down."

He shook his head. "I'm… I can't… I-" He interrupted himself, coughing feebly, before beginning again, clearly frustrated. "I… I'm… I can't…" He tilted his chin up so that he was facing the ceiling, lip trembling, then rolled away from her just as a tear began sliding down his cheek, laying on his side so his back was too her.

It tore her apart, to see him so miserable, so helpless, and she found her own cheeks wet with tears, which she quickly wiped away.

'_I'm sorry,' _she thought wretchedly, hating herself for what she'd done to him.

It had been her decision to land, she'd been the one who'd told them the atmosphere was breathable. Somewhere she knew that it was it was unfair to blame herself, that the data they'd received had been flawed and that it wasn't on her, but that somewhere was buried under a mountain guilt and hurt that she had no hope of moving.

'_It was my fault, it should be me weak and suffering, not you. I'm so sorry Fitz.' _

She didn't say any of that though, he didn't need her pain to add to his own. Instead, she carefully set down the plastic reader on the short table beside her chair and rose to bridge the short distance to his bed, ignoring the jolt the movement sent across her still healing rib cage. Her head throbbed but she didn't complain about that either as she sat down behind him, on the edge of his bed, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, gripping it beneath her fingers in hope of reassuring him.

"It'll be alright," she soothed, making sure she sounded strong, he needed her to be strong. "I know you're tired, but you won't be for long. You're getting a new heart tomorrow, a mechanical one." She tried to chuckle and it came out more cheerful than she'd expected, she hadn't known she could lie so well. "Soon you'll be running around, jumping rope even." He was silent. "Not that… you'd jump rope… it was just an example... but anyway you'll be back on your feet before-" She stopped as she felt his hand stack on top of hers, freezing cold because his heart wasn't doing it's job very well anymore, and he began rubbing the tops of her fingers in slow, gentle circles.

"Can… could… you...stay…" he managed laboriously, both out of breath and struggling to find the words.

Her other hand pressed down lightly on his, so that it was sandwiched between both of hers. "There's no where else I'm going to be," she vowed.

He surprised her by sitting up, struggling until she realized what he was doing and helped him, allowing him to lean against her. He whimpered quietly and hid his face in her neck as a sob shook out of him, then another, and another and he held onto her as tightly as his dwindling strength would allow, around her shoulders to avoid her injuries, while he broke down.

She bundled him up in her arms and gently rocked him back and forth while stroking the back of his hair, crying quietly because she didn't know what to do, because he was hurting and it was her fault and she couldn't fix it.

"It's OK," she lied, her voice watery. "I'm here, I'll stay."

He continued to weep into her, clutching her desperately as if worried that when he let go he'd be pulled away by the rough tide of his anguish and she gripped him back because she wasn't going to risk anything pulling him away.

Her tears were soundless but every sob, every whimper that wrenched out of him, sent cracks across her, like glass that kept cracking into more and more overlapping spiderwebs until you wondered how it was able to hold together, why the shards hadn't fallen away yet.

Watching him suffer was agony, but letting him do it alone would have been impossible and how could she complain when he had it so much worse?

So she continued to comfort him, keeping up the gentle rocking and murmuring soft assurances that it was going to be OK, that she was there and he was going to be OK. The strength in her voice was one of her best lies, but the love was real, even if it wasn't enough. Even if _she _wasn`t enough.

'_What have I done?' _she despaired, finally feeling herself break apart when he choked out her name, high and scared as if he were begging for help. '_How could I do this to you?'_

_/-/-/_

* * *

><p>I made Trip a doctor in this fic, because I needed a doctor and in the show he has medical training. Plus he'd be great at it, he's calm <em>ALL <em>the time.

Also, as you probably noticed, their fight in this chapter is based very much off the fight in 2x06 _ A Fractured House _

There's no Fringe reference in this chapter, I couldn't fit it in through all the angst haha, but there are two in the next one :D.


	7. Goodbye

Simmons spent the next two days preparing for the trip, packing, gathering her research and making arrangements for her replacement in biosphere 23. She called Fitz multiple times each day, left him numerous messages, apologizing, without an explanation or an excuse for her decision because she had neither, and receiving no reply. Each unanswered message grew her despair which squirmed inside of her like a parasite, eating her up, but she she kept sending them, kept checking for his name to appear in the top corner of the screen even though its continued absence hurt more and more.

He must have been really upset with her. He'd never shut her out for so long before, even when she'd first returned from station 627, when he'd been hurt and confused and they'd been more broken than they'd ever been, he'd still responded to her.

She kept her portable communicator close, jumping each time it chimed to let her know she had a message, but it was always someone else. A few times it was Skye, asking her what she needed to pack (she was coming on the expedition, she'd helped uncover the scrambling signal and she was their best chance at cracking it) other times it was her replacement at the biosphere, a man around her age named Brandon Fayette who had only around half her experience and was sounding increasingly overwhelmed (he'd get it eventually, he was clever and hardworking, which was why she'd chosen him, and she'd keep telling him that until he believed it).

On the day she was meant to depart, a few hours before she needed to be at the jumpgate, she still hadn't received anything from Fitz so she took the shuttle to the dwelling he shared with Mack, determined to at least say goodbye and tell him in person that she was sorry, even if it needed to be through the door.

To her great annoyance, it was Mack who answered.

"I'm here to say goodbye to Fitz," she told him curtly, attempting to peer around him, however he blocked out most of the doorway.

He frowned, confused. "But… oh…" something seemed to dawn on him and sighed. "You can't," he answered.

Simmons bristled at that. "I'd rather let _him _decide whether or not I talk to him, thank you very much," she shot back.

"Woah," he held up his hands defensively, though he didn't appear surprised by her hostility. "I'm not deciding anything. I mean he's not here."

"Where is he then?" she demanded, crossing her arms.

"Look, clearly you two have some things to talk about, but-"

"You have no idea," she retorted hotly, quickly losing patience with his invasive assumptions. "We don't know each other well enough for you to say something like that, and you _certainly _don't know anything about Fitz and I, however much you think you do."

He matched her pose and they stared each other down, Simmons shooting daggers while Mack looked her over.

"You're right," he conceded to her astonishment, shrugging before stepping out into the hallway and closing the door behind him. "We don't know each other very well, but I do know Fitz, and I know he was really worked up about you not wanting him on the expedition."

Simmons continued to glare at him. "Was he? I didn't notice," she replied bitterly. "I've only been his best friend for _ten years_, it isn't as if I don't know when he's upset. Can you please tell me where he is? I need to be at the jumpgate in a couple of hours and I'd really like to speak with him before I leave."

He shifted uncomfortably. "I don't think I can."

She huffed irritably. "Thank you anyway." She began stalking away, resolved that she'd need to find Fitz on her own, but Mack called out to her, stopping her mid step.

"Hey I'm sorry. For whatever it is I did to make you so angry with me."

"You're the one who thinks I'm horrible," she accused, turning to face him.

That confused him. "What?"

"You thought I abandoned him," she answered fiercely. "You thought that I'd leave, that I'd hurt him, if I had another choice. I _didn't _have a choice though, I had to go I was… well you said it yourself," she hurled at him before her heart sank and her voice lowered. "I make him worse."

Mack shook his head. "Not anymore."

She scoffed. "Sometimes I wonder." Fury burned through her, that he'd made her admit it out loud.

Mack had a way of making her feel like poison, like she was a plague to the man she loved in more ways than she could count, and it wasn't fair. He made her doubt that she could ever go back to being good for Fitz and she couldn't let herself believe he was right because if he was it would destroy her.

"You make him happy," Mack objected and she narrowed her eyes, head tilted slightly to the side in confusion. She hadn't been expecting him to say that. "Whatever else, you make him happy. I've seen you two together, he lights up like a star when you're around… and so do you when you see him."

It was kind of him, to say that, and the relief it brought filled her eyes with tears which she struggled to blink away. She stood, only a few feet away from him, searching for a response and coming up blank because the only words she'd had were angry ones and, suddenly, she wasn't angry anymore.

"Do you love him?" he asked carefully.

She nodded, smiling as a tear leaked past her nose. "Yes. More than anything in the universe."

He smiled back kindly. "I'm sure you'll be OK." How was he so certain? "You know, he feels the same way about you." He chuckled. "He talks about you all the time, it gets kind of annoying actually, after a while. But it's also very…" He shrugged. "Well it's sweet I guess."

Simmons wiped her eyes, a warm glow in her chest. He talked about her? Could Mack be right? Did he still feel the same way she did? Even after everything?

"He talks about you too."

"Yeah?" Mack laughed. "How do you feel about that?"

"It's sweet….," She grinned mischievously. "I guess."

He laughed again and, after hesitating briefly, she chuckled along, astounded at how the conversation had shifted. It baffled her how he'd switched so quickly from making her feel awful about herself to giving her hope. Maybe he'd never wanted to make her feel that way, maybe that had just been her, continuing to punish herself.

"I suppose you still can't tell me where Fitz is?" she ventured amicably, losing her need to confront him about it.

He shook his head. "Sorry."

"Don't be," she told him. "I'm sure I'll find him… but… but if I don't..." she added. She chewed her lip, confidence wavering. It wasn't a possibility she wanted to consider, but it was a possibility nonetheless.

"I'll tell him you wanted to say goodbye," Mack finished.

She smiled at him once more, grateful. "Thank you."

/-/-/

**1 Day Earlier**

Fitz was in the sitting room, watching the news with Mack as they ate their dinner, though he'd barely touched his and neither were really paying attention to what the reporter was saying.

"I can't believe she would do this to me," he huffed, waving the document violently, as if he could shake off the offending text. "She wrote me off as a liability! Because of my _heart_. They can't… there's got to be some sort of rule against using my synthetic organ as an excuse not to choose me. Aren't I protected by some union? Doesn't this go against… uh… patient privacy?"

He'd done some research into the expedition shortly after Simmons had left and, to his horror, he uncovered that not only had she not invited him, she'd _specifically requested_ that he not be chosen. It was an outrage, to say the least, and he was still fuming about it (and more than a little hurt).

"What does it say again, exactly?" his friend asked, much calmer than Fitz was, after a mouthful of noodles.

He frowned and held the page steady, gripping the bottom irritably as he scanned it for the traitorous line. "It says, '_Due to his mechanical heart, and the nature of the electromagnetic interference around star 577B, I believe it would be too high a risk to consider allowing Dr. Fitz to join the expedition to it's surrounding planets, despite his advanced level of knowledge, experience and expertise_.'"

"At least she called you intelligent," he pointed out optimistically.

Fitz snorted because it felt more like she was placating him. "She also basically said that I'm too damaged to go on the expedition." '_And maybe she's only using my heart as an excuse so she doesn't have to mention my head.' _he added grimly to himself.

Was this how she really saw him? As something broken that needed to be kept sheltered somewhere lest it break apart? Part of him suspected that she didn't, that she was only trying to protect him, but this didn't feel like protection. It felt like being cast aside. By _Simmons_, someone he'd thought respected him.

Mack looked thoughtful for a moment then, quietly, he said, "She's right about your heart." Fitz shot him a scorching look and he quickly continued. "It _is _going to be a potential problem, if you go."

"Well I can't bloody well go now, can I?" he muttered, roughly tossing the document onto the low glass table beside his plate.

His communicator beeped twice and he scanned it quickly to see that it was Simmons again, fishing for a response.

'_Not bloody likely you traitor,' _he thought angrily, deleting it without viewing the contents. If it had been about the expedition he would have also received a message from Coulson. Her apologies would only soften him and he didn't want to forgive her just yet, he didn't want to go along with what was happening, as if it were OK.

Mack raised his eyebrows. "Why? Because there's one line in some document that says it _might _be a bad idea?"

"I'd need a council member's signature to go against it," he reasoned gloomily. "The decision's been made, I've even been replaced by some rogue contractor I've never heard of before."

Simmons had chosen her herself, he wasn't sure why that made the sting burn further beneath his skin, but it did.

"Don't you have an aunt on the council?" Mack wondered casually, but Fitz could tell his gears were turning, that he was forming a plan.

"My Godmother," he corrected. "I guess I could ask for her help… it wouldn't be cheating, I _should _be on this expedition. Simmons is the one who's cheating, using my heart as an excuse because she's too afraid to admit that she doesn't think I'm…. I don't know actually. I have no idea what she's thinking."

"I don't think it's _your _heart that's the problem," Mack pointed out cryptically, shrugging when Fitz quizzically raised an eyebrow. "We should give you some protection though," he went on, ignoring the silent question, "just in case. I'll talk to Trip and see if there's anything that isn't too invasive that we can do to give you a bit of shielding."

"What about Simmons?" Fitz asked. She'd already written him off, he doubted a bit of tinkering was going to change her mind.

Mack shook his head. "I can't help you with that," he told him. "That's between you and her."

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. "Yeah, you're right." '_Not telling her anything it is then,_' he added to himself, daunted by the thought of facing her once he managed to get himself onto the shuttle, but even more frightened of doing it before, of her stopping him.

That was a problem for another time though, for now he had work to do. Encouraged, he smiled gratefully at his friend and rose to his feet. "I'd better go talk to Victoria then," he decided.

Mack quickly swallowed the last bite of his supper and stood too, lifting his plate with him. "I'll call Trip. I'm sure between the three of us we'll have you travel ready in no time."

/-/-/

Fitz received another message from Simmons just before he arrived at Victoria's dwelling. This time, worn down by the endless stream of them, he opened it and read what she'd sent him.

'_I'm not sure if you're reading these, but I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry for hurting you and I'm going to keep telling you that until you believe it. I don't want to go without you, but I have to, and I'm going to miss you every day that I'm gone. So please, can we see each other one more time before I leave?'_

He knew the message was sincere, that he was hurting her, and he suddenly regretted deleting the rest of them. They didn't do this to each other. He didn't ignore messages from her maliciously, he didn't do things that would cause her pain, _ever_. This was wrong and if she were really leaving without him he'd have gone to find her immediately, but she wasn't. He was going with her and he'd have plenty of time to make things right on the journey to the star. Besides if he went to her now she might find out what he was up too and he didn't think he could handle an argument about it.

So he saved the message, tucked the communicator back into his pocket, and knocked on the door.

Victoria hadn't been expecting him, but she still smiled welcomingly when she answered.

"Come on in," she invited. "Did you eat? I still have some hot chocolate left somewhere."

She led him inside and motioned for him to sit down at the small square table in the kitchen while she searched her (mostly empty) cupboards.

Her dwelling looked a lot like his, except it was far better organized. Everything was neatly kept in place, simple, colourless and lacking the ornaments (mostly action figures, remote controlled cars and toy animals) that decorated the place he shared with Mack.

"Hot chocolate?" he teased. "That isn't really… it's not…uh... it isn't really a meal. I hope you're eating more than that."

"I eat out and besides, I'm more of a coffee person," she mused, relinquishing her search and coming over to take the seat across from him.

He laughed. "I know. And you thought I was too... when I was six…"

"You liked it," she reminded him breezily. Then she shrugged, a glint in her eyes. "After I put ice cream and sugar in it of course."

"I prefer tea," he grinned, amused at the memory. "But it was delicious."

"I think it was mostly ice cream anyway." She smiled, thoughts far away, however she quickly returned, sobering as her gaze met his so that her features took on the familiar hardness she displayed to the rest of the world. "I don't think this is a social visit though, is it?" she guessed. "You're here about the expedition."

He nodded solemnly. "Yes."

She sighed, studying him closely as she leaned against the back of the seat. "You want to go."

"I do," he replied.

"Are you sure you're ready?" she asked and it was an honest question neither critical nor overprotective.

Another nod. "I know I'm ready," he told her steadily.

She was silent for a moment, seeming to struggling with something, then she shook her head and the faintest of smiles lit her expression. "You always were quick to jump back to your feet, just like…" she trailed off, sad for a moment before dismissed it and continued. "Alright," she sighed, "what do I need to sign?"

He beamed at her. "Really? You mean…? Thank you!" he exclaimed, hopping excitedly in place but stopping as she raised an eyebrow at him, amused.

Fitz cleared his throat, embarrassed. "Ahem, right."

He shuffled so that he sat straight in his seat. Then he pulled the form from his pocket, unfolded it and placed it in front of him, receiving a disapproving look from Victoria for crinkling an official document as she fetched a pen from the black cup filled with them that decorated the centre of the table like an odd bouquet.

"Just be careful alright?" she warned as he slid the form over to her. "You don't need to prove anything, and you don't need to do anything you think isn't safe."

The words came out curt and flat, but he knew that she was worried. She'd never been one to openly display affection but he knew her well enough to understand that that didn't mean she didn't care.

"I'll be fine," he promised. He grinned smugly. "And I'll send you pictures of the new world, when we find it. It's going to be amazing."

She rolled her eyes. "You aren't even on the ship yet and you've already discovered it."

"It's out there," he told her confidently. "I know it is."

She nodded, smiling warmly as she signed her name across the bottom of the form. "Then go find it."

/-/-/

Simmons had missed the first jump. She'd spent the past several hours searching for Fitz only to come up empty and, as she approached the large, circular gate, her feet weighed her down as if they'd been coated in cement.

Her communicator beeped at her and she scrambled to pull it out of her pocket, heart sinking in disappointment when she saw it wasn't him. It was Skye.

'_May wants to know where you are,' _she'd written. '_Did you find him?'_

'_No,' _she thought sadly. '_Maybe that's for the best though… he didn't want me to find him.'_

Her lip trembled and she felt as if the tears she was holding back were building up inside of her, choking her and making everything much heavier than it should have been. She hated leaving like this.

She had too though. For Fitz, for everyone.

'_I'm on my way,' _she typed, quickly hitting send before slipping the device safely back into her pocket.

Then she took a deep, shaky breath, gripped the straps of her backpack, and stepped onto the platform. The gate hummed to life, spinning rapidly, before the air within the circle shimmered, forming a shining sphere with a distorted image of station 627's receiving bay inside of it.

Simmons looked over her shoulder once more, longing to see Fitz running after her, hurrying to say goodbye or good luck or simply to be there to wave her off, but there was no one. The room was empty except for her and the operator so she resigned herself to this sad, lonely departure and turned back towards the gate so that the jewel in her hair caught the light from the wormhole, sparkling blue like sunshine on the ocean, and stepped through the steadily humming sphere.

/-/-/

* * *

><p>:D Thank you to notapepper for character advise and teaching me how to transform a phrase so that it makes sense and continuing to show me that English is cool B-).<p>

There are two Fringe references in this chapter  
>1) is Brandon Fayette who is a scientist who works for Massive Dynamic in our universe and for Walternate in the other one. He is great in our universe but a bit scary in the other one...<br>2) is the phrase "We don't know each other well enough for you to say something like that." Olivia says that to Broyles when he questions her ability to gain access to a suspect for questioning in 1x07 _In Which We Meet Mr. Jones._


	8. All Aboard

Simmons arrived at the ship late, after the rest of the crew had gone to sleep and the lights had been dimmed, but ships like these had long ago become familiar to her and she easily made her way down to the bunks.

Each door was coded with a colour and a shape to identify it and she was glad when she found that the red circle was free. When she'd traveled with Fitz they'd always chosen red. Red doors were suppose to be lucky and, though neither of them believed in superstition, the room colour had sentimental value. The red circle room was the first they'd ever shared and they'd always shared it since.

She wished they were sharing it now, but bringing him out there would have been wrong. He trusted that she was right about the twelve planets, he had faith in her even after she'd messed up so badly, but there was always the possibility that she'd made another fatal error and if she _had _made a mistake and he was hurt again she'd never forgive herself. She would not risk his life twice.

The overhead lights were out in the room so she turned on the bedside lamp and began settling in.

The first thing she unpacked was a photograph in a small square frame, and stuck it to the wall beside her bed. It was old, terribly outdated, but it was her absolute favourite. She and Fitz stood beside each other, holding up their new lanyards, the ones the'd received after gaining level 5 clearance in SHIELD (clearance allowing them to go on expeditions to novel planets) wearing matching grins so wide their eyes crinkled, their shoulders brushing together without a thought.

They'd been so happy, not just in the moment the photograph had been taken, but in all the years before and after it to. They'd loved what they did and each other and, though of course it hadn't been perfect, not everyday could be sunshine and rainbows, it had felt incredibly close.

She'd give anything to go back to that.

It still stung, that he hadn't said goodbye, that he'd been too angry with her to send her off, especially since she'd be gone for months, but she knew that he still cared and so did she so she smiled softly at the photography, pressed her lips to her first three fingers and then quickly touched them to the glass.

'_We'll see each other again soon love,' _she promised. She could call him that in her head, where no one could hear. To herself at least, she could admit what he was to her.

No one else had shown up, and they were departing soon, so she guessed Skye was sharing with someone else and she had the room to herself. That was fine, a little lonely, but fine. She could use the extra bunk to store her things. The screen that shut down across it, from the ceiling to the rim along the edge of the mattress (so that sleeping travelers wouldn't float away when they were weightless in space) was also handy for keeping her belongings in place.

There was a handle at the bottom and she grabbed her bag before turning it, lifting the screen, and absently tossing it into the bunk, thinking of the journey ahead and wondering if she should go to sleep even though she didn't really think she'd be getting much of it, rather than paying attention to what she was doing.

"Oouf!" a familiar voice exclaimed.

The movement she caught out of the corner of her eye, a sleeping bag squiggling under her bag as if it had a dozen frantic squirrelbots inside of it trying to get out, gave her a start, causing her to let out a yelp as her hands sprung up defensively. After a second, a head with short, curly hair popped out the top, red-faced and scowling.

"What the hell? What is that bloody thing?" he grumbled groggily as a pair of arms were squeezed out and picked the thing that had been thrown on top of him. "Don't you know to look where you throw your-" he paused, finally waking enough recognizing the bag, as well as her voice and turned to face her, expression guilty, as if he'd been caught breaking a rule. "Um… er… I mean," he lifted it, awkwardly offering it back the her. "Here's your bag…"

Simmons froze, unable to believe what she was seeing. It felt surreal, as if she were dreaming and the place they were had suddenly changed without her moving. How could Fitz, the Fitz she'd left safely back on 616, be sleeping aboard the ship about to depart deep into space, on a dangerous expedition she'd gone through so much effort to keep him off of?

It was a few seconds before she found her tongue and they stared at each other, Fitz becoming increasingly uneasy so that he fidgeted out of his sleeping bag, kicking it away, Simmons becoming increasingly… she wasn't exactly sure, angry? Terrified? Confused?

He swung his legs over the side of his bed and jostled the bag tentatively. "Um...You can-"

"What are you doing here?!" she snapped, responding with anger because it was the easiest to deal with, crossing her arms rather than accepting it.

"We _were _sleeping, it is the middle of the night cycle," he looked over at Sim who'd curled up neatly beside his pillow, still rebooting her systems. "Well, I guess some of us still are," he mused.

"I mean on the expedition," she clarified flatly, narrowing her eyes at him."You haven't been cleared-"

"Actually I have been cleared," he told her, prickling slightly as he abandoned his attempts to return her carry on and placed it beside him. He crawled out of the bunk to search underneath for his own and she grudgingly took a step back to give him room, still glowering at him. "You aren't the only one who gives out the invitations," he explained hotly as he pulled out a long, folded sheet of paper.

"Let me see that," she demanded, snatching it out of his hands and looking it over suspiciously, ready to call for security the moment she uncovered the forgery for what it was. He sat back down on the mattress, annoyingly smug as he watch her read it, glaring at the print as if it were its fault when she couldn't find anything incriminating. "Who signed off on this?"

It was real, bearing the official stamp of SHIELD in the top right hand corner, as well as a list of his credentials and a note about his medical condition. There was even a small section for Sim, outlining her functions as a therapy robot and brief instructions on what to do in the case of his heart shutting down.

To Simmons astonishment, the signature at the bottom read Victoria Hand.

'_Traitor,'_ she thought even though, until just then, she hadn't known there was anything for the council member to betray. They'd never been close, especially after the accident, but she now realized that she'd relied on them at least being in agreement that Fitz remaining on station 616 was best. That had clearly been a mistake.

"Don't look so shocked," he told her, shrugging as he leaned breezily back against the wall beside Sim, his nonchalance faltering slightly when she shot him a sharp look. "Yeah, I know, I played the 'my Godmother's on the council' card and I know I said I never would, but you…. uh… you… you didn't really give me much of a choice did you? I de-... deserve to be on this expedition just as much as you do."

Simmons rubbed her neck with one hand, frustrated because she didn't know how to object, and fell backwards onto her bunk, still clutching the paper in the other as if gripping it tightly enough would change what was written on it.

Her heart beat angrily against her chest and blood roared past her ears as she reread it and the finality of it sank in fully at last. Fitz was there, on the shuttle, and he was going on the expedition with her. He could be hurt again. He could die. The air in the room didn't change, but it felt suddenly like she couldn't breath it and her chest hurt.

"What's that?" Fitz asked curiously, leaning to the side so he could peek over her shoulder at something behind her, completely at ease while she was beginning to panic.

"Huh?" She turned around and spotted the photograph which was currently hidden from his view by her body. "Oh… um… it's…" she stumbled, growing flustered by a completely different kind of panic. "It's just…"

"Oh C'mon Simmons I wont make fun if it's a picture of Peggy Carter," he teased. "I know that you look up to her, having founded SHIELD and all, saving all those people in the Great Disaster."

He stood and attempted to weave around her but she darted back and forth, blocking him. "Are you hungry?" she inquired in a high, cheerful voice, desperately trying to distract him. "I think there should be leftovers down in the kitchen, it'll be our last meal that isn't freeze dried-"

A short, cheerful beep from behind told her that Sim had woken up and snuck past her, pilfering the photograph which she now presented to Fitz, hopping around excitedly because she thought it was a game.

"Aha!" he exclaimed, grabbing it victoriously. "Good job Sim. Now we'll-" he stopped as he caught Simmons' mortified expression and his own softened. He sighed set the frame down on the desk, face down. "It's not Peggy… is it?" he guessed.

She shook her head, unsure how to explain. "I… It's nothing bad-"

"Of course not," he agreed quickly, though his eyes were sad. "I guess… It's just that we never… um… we never kept secrets before so… uh… but…. but I guess things are different now."

"We never snuck around behind each other's backs either," she reminded him quietly, the coals of her anger smoldering in the breeze so that they glowed orange between the black. Didn't he know how dangerous this was going to be for him? She hadn't been bluffing about his heart being a risk. (Though, if she were honest, she knew he _could _have found a way to minimize the danger it posed).

His face fell and he looked away while he sat slowly back onto his bed. "We never had to," he mumbled and the sorrow in his words instantly cooled her like drenching rain so that her soul was left shivering.

Sim must have sensed that he was upset because she butted her head against his arm, chirping softly, and he gloomily lifted his hand to pat her, shoulders sagging as he stared at his knees instead of Simmons.

It was as if they'd slipped backwards, as if the carefully woven threads pulling them back together were coming loose. She couldn't have that, not when they'd worked so hard to stitch them into place, so she shook off her embarrassment, rose to her feet and lifted the frame off the desk.

"Here," she offered, holding it out to him.

"It's fine," he mumbled.

"I don't mind," she insisted.

"It's not about the photograph," he objected, his eyes still cast downwards.

'_I know, but I can't fix the other things,' _she thought wearily.

She waved it impatiently in front of him. "Just take it, or I'll be standing here all night looking ridiculous holding it out to you."

He lifted his chin and the tiniest of smiles tugged up his mouth. "And everyone says I'm the stubborn one," he mused.

"You are the stubborn one," she laughed softly, settling in next to him.

He shook his head at her, chuckling quietly before his eyes fell on the photo. She watched his reaction carefully, searching his face as he narrowed his eyes, confused, with her heart in her throat, trying to think of an explanation.

Fortunately, he gave her one.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," he let her know, grinning in amusement. "_Everyone _knows how proud you were to reach level 5."

Of course he would think that it was about the badges, she'd given him no reason to think otherwise and she _was _proud of that day. She hoped he couldn't see how relieved she was.

"I was proud of _both of us_," she answered, fondly nudging him with her elbow, and his smile turned to starshine.

"Yeah… yeah me too," he agreed. He paused, eyes lingering on the side of her hair where the Earth pin was still securely fastened, and she thought she saw a question in his eyes before he returned his attention to the photo and ran his thumb along the frame nervously. "Would it be alright…. would you mind if… if we put it up in the middle, that is if you're alright having me for a bunk mate..."

"Of course not," she answered, before she realized what she was saying, before it dawned on her that she was indirectly sanctioning his place on the ship.

"Excellent," he chirped, taking it and securing the magnetic strip onto the metal wall between their beds. He stood back to inspect his work and Sim, who had climbed onto his shoulder, let out a short beep, nodding in approval. "Thanks Simmons. Did you say something about food earlier? I'm starting to feel a bit peckish."

"The kitchen's downstairs," she replied dully.

He grinned cheerfully. "Let's go then," he decided, extending his hand to help her up and jerking his head towards the door, appetite unaffected by the fact that it was the middle of the night and he'd just been abruptly woken up by her bag being dropped onto him.

She wanted to march him right off the ship and send him back to station 616 where he'd be safe, not go downstairs for a snack, but she knew there was no way for her to convince him to leave and, with his official clearance, there was no way for her to force him to.

Unhappily resigning herself to what had happened, she took his hand and stood to follow him out of their room.

/-/-/

They tiptoed together down the round-walled, low ceiling hallway, careful not to let their footsteps clap too loudly on the metal floor, so as not to wake any of the sleeping crew, following the dim ground lights because the brighter overhead ones had been turned off.

Sim padded silently beside Fitz, shining twin beans of light from her eyes out ahead to guide the way, glancing up anxiously at him every now and then, unnerved by the strange silence hanging between Fitz and Simmons, and casting a glow onto his face which remained unreadable. Simmons wondered what he was telling her through their silent communication and found herself envying the little robot's clear view into his mind.

Was he still upset? Or had his lack of response to her numerous messages simply been a way to avoid her while he snuck aboard?

"Watch your step," Fitz warned from ahead of her when they'd reached the stairs. "It's a bit steep."

The ship wasn't really designed very well for an environment with gravity.

"I will," she mumbled, keeping close behind him. Now that he was stuck on the voyage with her, she found herself unable to let him drift too far away, in case something happened.

'_It isn't as if your presence was such a big help last time,'_ she remembered bitterly, another wave of panic pulsing across her chest.

He seemed to sense the tension radiating off of her and he chuckled nervously. "So… er… were you hungry too, or were you… um… were you just… just tagging along?"

"I'm not hungry," she told him dryly.

"Oh…" he answered. Another nervous chuckle. "You know… you could have stayed and tried to uh… to sleep."

"I'm not tired."

He stopped, turning to give her a weak smile. "Well… um… thanks."

She hated this, it was like before, when the wedge between them had seemed so far driven in that it would be impossible to pry out. They couldn't go back to that, not ever, her heart couldn't take it. So, for the moment, she pushed her anger and her fear to the back of her mind.

Returning his smile, she hurried to catch up to him, coming close but not allowing them to touch just yet. "Someone needs to make sure you don't eat everything that's left," she teased and his smile widened in relief, filling with starshine once more that reflected off her heart as if it were a silvery moon.

/-/-/

* * *

><p>The Fringe reference is the red door. Olivia had a red door growing up because her father thought it was lucky.<p>

Eventually they are going to be in zero gravity (for at least a chapter) so if anyone knows anything about that, I'd love any advice :P.


	9. The Crew

When they arrived in the kitchen, they found they weren't the only ones out looking for a midnight snack.

Two boys, no older than nineteen, sat with twin bowls of macaroni and cheese, the wonderful salty scent reaching Fitz's nose and making his stomach grumble even as he wondered what the hell a pair of teenagers were doing on such an important expedition.

A woman sat next to them, picking at a piece of strawberry stardust cake and shaking her head at them, unimpressed.

"Fantastic," she mumbled sarcastically and the boy nearest to her blushed. "You couldn't have told me earlier?"

"Hey," the other one piped up defensively. "How was Donnie suppose to know the bonding agent wouldn't hold?"

"Did you try reading the manual?" she asked, addressing the first boy, Donnie.

"I really should have known, Seth," he told his friend honestly.

Fitz cleared his throat, feeling awkward listening in on their conversation, and the three of them glanced up to notice him and Simmons standing at the entrance.

The woman gave them a friendly wave. "Hello, you're Jemma Simmons aren't you?" she asked.

"That's me." Simmons nodded cheerfully, reminding him of a songbird he'd heard chirping once in an old documentary, beautiful and melodious. It was incredible that, even in such seemingly mundane moments, she was able to take his breath away.

She rose to her feet and strode over to shake hands. "Audrey Ramirez," she introduced herself, then she shrugged. "But you know that already, don't you? You were the one who assigned me to the expedition. Sorry I had drag my brothers along," she added, pointing her thumb over her shoulder at the pair of boys watching curiously from behind their bowls of macaroni, "but I promise that Donnie is almost as good with engines as me and Seth should be a great assistant for you." She turned to Fitz. "I don't think we've met, what's your name?"

Her hand hovered in front of Fitz and he stared at it, ears burning as he realized who she was. She was his replacement, his _fully functional_ replacement. He'd known about her of course, but something about seeing her for himself, proof that he hadn't been invited on this vital expedition, that he could be _replaced _like a burnt out light bulb, made his spine prickly and a sour taste rise up in the back of his throat. It was immature, petty even, but he suddenly didn't want to touch her.

He crossed his arms, scowling. "I'm the one Dr. Simmons didn't think was good enough for this expedition," he told her coldly.

Simmons inhaled sharply, tensing beside him, the stirrings of a sob audible in the next breath that escaped her. "Fitz…"

"I changed my mind," he muttered, uninterested in her excuses. "I'm not hungry."

He turned, beginning to stalk away and Simmons hurried behind him, stones in her stomach.

"Fitz wait," she called miserably.

"Don't," he snapped, rounding on her, causing her to flinch and pull back the hand that had been reaching unconsciously towards him. "Don't… don't… just…," he blew out impatiently. "Just don't." She looked away, eyes burning as he continued. "You replaced me. As if… as if I were some part that didn't work anymore-"

"That isn't what happened!" she objected desperately. "That's not why."

"Then why?" he demanded, eyes brightening.

The other three stared at them, the two boys wide eyed while Audrey frowned.

Simmons froze, feeling like a trapped animal, the ones she'd read about in stories as a child except, unlike in the stories, she couldn't see a way out. She opened her mouth, hoping for _anything _to come out but she had nothing to tell him so she quickly closed it and pressed her lips together, fighting back tears.

Fitz shook his head and let out a shaky sigh, blinking back the salty water behind his eyelids as he stared down at his feet. "How is this suppose to work then?" he asked quietly. "If you can't even tell me the truth, what does that make us?"

'_Say something!' _she urged herself, but she couldn't. She'd turned to ice but it wasn't numbing, the way cold was suppose to be, it burned.

"I'm going to bed," he told her dully. "Come get me if you decide I'm useful again."

Then he turned his back on her and walked away, Sim trailing grudgingly behind him, glancing back at Simmons several times and beeping up to him, but he must have told her to stop because she soon fell silent.

One of the boys, Seth she thought, tried to ask something, but she heard Audrey tell him sternly to mind his own noodles.

/-/-/

Simmons decided to give Fitz a while to cool off, wandering aimlessly around the ship, before she returned to the room they shared. It crossed her mind that maybe she needed to find a new bunkmate, but that felt like giving up which she vehemently refused to do, so she cast the idea aside.

It was dark when she entered and, once again, she turned on the lamp beside the desk so that she wouldn't bump into anything.

"Fitz…" she began tentatively, reaching for the handle at the bottom of his screen, but jerking her hand back quickly because she knew her barging in would be unwelcome.

"I'm tired," he told her roughly. "I'm going to sleep."

"Oh...OK," she replied, pitch increasing slightly, and her eyes stung. "G-goodnight."

She didn't receive a response and so, sore as if her bones had been replaced with lead, she crept into her own bunk, not bothering to go and change or to shut the screen because they wouldn't be taking off until the next day, clicked off the lamp and curled herself up in her sleeping bag.

At first she cried quietly, blinking hot tears from her eyes and onto her cheeks, but what he'd said in the kitchen reverberated through her skull like a pounding headache and, after a minute, a squeaky sob escaped her.

She bit down hard on her lip, trying to remain silent because he was close enough that he'd probably hear her, managing to stave off the next one for another few seconds before it shuddered out and she buried her face in the bag's pillow as several more inevitably followed.

After a minute his screen opened with a low whoosh and she fell silent as she heard him bridge the short distance with hesitant steps. Then her bouncing mattress told her he'd climbed in next to her and she held her breath, fearing the slightest movement would scare him away.

There was a click and soft light from the lamp cast her shadow onto the opposing wall.

He sighed deeply, his breath weighted with sorrow. "Ahh...Jemma…"

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder and the contact broke the stillness that had settled over her forcing another squeak to burst out of her, fresh tears pouring down her cheeks and across her nose.

"Ah, no… no, no, no don't… I'm sorry," he apologized softly. His other hand gently grazed her cheek, clearing her tears. "Hey, don't… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that… and I'm not even really tired." He paused and she closed her eyes as he continued to lightly wipe the side of her face dry. Under the tender touch, she could almost let herself believe that he still loved her the way he had before the accident, the way she still loved him now. "Well, no… I am, but… uh…. I… it's…" He puffed out a breath, at a loss. "I just don't understand what's going on between us and… it's scary."

She rested her hand on the one on her shoulder, rubbing the tops of his fingers. "I'm sorry that I hurt you," she whispered hoarsely, and she wondered if he knew she meant before too, if he knew that she was thinking of their last expedition and the time shortly after when he'd been lying in her place and she'd been sitting in his.

"I know," he murmured.

'_You don't though,' _ she thought.

"Get some sleep," he advised gently, stacking his hand onto hers and gripping it firmly. "I'll leave the screen open tonight and you can throw your bag at me again if you feel sad or scared or… or anything."

She gave a watery chuckle and turned her body towards him to see his mouth curved slightly in a soft smile she couldn't help but return and he carefully cleared away the rest of her tears. Then he rose to return to his bunk where he lay on his side so that they were facing each other.

"Goodnight Jemma," he murmured before closing his eyes.

"Goodnight," she whispered, watching him for a moment before she turned off the lamp and tried to sleep.

She felt better, now that the walls had been risen and it seemed as if he'd, at least for the moment, decided to forgive her, but she knew this wasn't over. He still didn't understand and she was still terrified about what could to happen to him now that he'd managed to get himself aboard (and, if she were honest, she was still angry at _him _for doing it).

It didn't matter that he'd snuck past her, if she lost him this time she knew she'd blame herself.

'_Please,' _she begged desperately. '_Please let things go well this time.' _

/-/-/

There was a meeting the next morning for all the crew members, in the cargo bay, a sort of meet and greet-briefing mix before they departed, and a groggy, yawning Fitz, followed slowly behind a sleepy but chipper Simmons into the already filled area.

She seemed a lot better than she'd been last night, it was amazing how far a simple apology could go, but he knew things weren't fixed, not yet.

Skye bounced over to them like an over excited puppy as they entered. "Oh wow, you're really here. I thought Hunter was just making shit up again!" she exclaimed, grinning widely at him before Simmons shot her a look and it vanished as she lowered her head, appearing as if she'd been caught cheering for the kid shooting spitballs at the chalkboard.

"Yeah, I'm here," he agreed and they smirked at each other while Simmons' attention was drawn by waving crew member. It seemed as if many of them wanted to meet her.

As she wandered off to greet them, Sim chirped up at Skye who chuckled and kneeled down to pat her head before rising beside Fitz and poking his arm playfully with her elbow.

"It's good to see you," she told him. "But holy asteroids, Simmons must be _pissed._" She snorted and prodded him again, eyes wide and doing her best to look stern. "I'd be too by the way, so don't expect me to take your side on this one." There was a pause and she frowned, shaking her head. "Actually, scratch that, I'm not taking sides. I'm neutral. I have nothing to do with any of this."

"That's probably wise," he agreed and she smiled sympathetically at him.

"I _am _glad you're here though," she added earnestly, patting his shoulder in an attempt at comfort. "Really, I am. I just wish you hadn't done it behind her back."

"Well it isn't as if she gave me much of a choice," he protested.

Her eyebrows rose, unimpressed. "Yeah, because all that talking you two did right before she left was totally unproductive… I wonder if it had anything to do with the fact that it was just Simmons sending you like a _bazillion _messages about how sorry she was and you ignoring all of them."

He averted his gaze, cheeks flushed with shame because he still remembered the wet, warmth of her tears on his fingers, still heard her whimpering as she tried not to cry. "Was she… was she very upset?" he asked tentatively.

Skye nodded, her eyes sad. "You were killing her Fitz," she told him quietly. "Seriously, she looked like the kid in that old Earth movie did after he shot his dog. And I bet Old Yeller would have answered _his _messages."

"Old Yeller was a labrador retriever… he didn't have thumbs, and he didn't know how to spell," Fitz deflected, though a heavy wad of guilt formed in his stomach at the idea of his actions causing her so much pain.

Skye raised her eyebrows in a silent '_are you kidding me right now?_' just as Simmons hopped back over to them.

"I've just met with a few of the crew members," she informed enthusiastically. "We have an amazing team, better than I could have hoped for, but-" she shook her head, frowning in concern.

"You found out that Hunter and Bobbi are exes didn't you?" Skye guessed.

"You don't think it's going to be a problem do you?" she inquired. "I'm sure they'll do their best to keep things professional."

"Oh, I think it's definitely going to be a problem," Skye announced, laughing nervously. "Those two are a cracked hull ready to break. But I think they're the only one's getting sucked out into the vacuum to have their blood boiled."

"Thank you, for that lovely image," Fitz grumbled.

She shrugged. "No problem."

"I'm not sure why we need so many guards anyway," Simmons commented, eyes narrowed. "What does Coulson think we're going to find?"

Skye shrugged. "He thinks that we could encounter some hostility," she paused, glancing nervously between Fitz and Simmons. "You know, because of what happened last time…"

"You mean when someone knocked out our electronics so we'd fall out of the sky?" Fitz suggested crudely, instantly regretting his tone when he saw Simmons wince and softening as he continued because he was _not _going to hurt her again. "He doesn't think that the inhabitants of this planet are going to be friendly then?"

"He wanted to be prepared for the worst," May put in, strolling over and nodding a short greeting. "We have no idea what we're going to find out there."

Simmons fidgeted uncomfortably. "Does the rest of the crew know what we're leading them into?" she wondered. She stared down at her feet, looking incredibly unhappy. "And… do they know _who _is leading them into it?"

"They know what they need to know," May told her firmly, however Simmons' gaze remained downcast, her shoulders heavy.

"I suppose," she mumbled.

Fitz couldn't stand her being so down on herself, worrying about what people were saying about her, beating herself up as she thought she actually deserved it. How could someone so smart be so blind to how amazing she was? How could she possibly think anyone would doubt her ability to lead the expedition?

"So they know they're being led by… by the bravest, cleverest explorer since Steve Rogers?" he suggested encouragingly, trying to wrap her up in the warm smile he cast her so she'd stop looking so frostbitten.

She blushed and rose her head to meet his gaze, mouth curving up in a small smile to match his and he cheered silently because she did seem to have thawed, if only slightly.

May nodded in agreement. "They know they can trust you," she insisted and Skye leaned towards Simmons to give her a goodnatured nudge, continuing to melt her and redden her cheeks.

"Are you Dr. Simmons?" a man asked politely, emerging from the crowd. He was older, his hair white with age, and he wore a pair small round glasses with silver rims. His attire was formal, a light suit and tie, and he held himself confidently as he reached out his hand. "I was told by another crew member that you were here."

"I am," she replied, her manners as good as his as she took his hand and shook it firmly. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name."

"I'm Daniel Whitehall," he told her. "I have been looking forward to meeting you, the work you did to put this expedition together is remarkable."

Fitz felt his jaw drop and exchanged an excited glance with Simmons. _The _Daniel Whitehall? He and Simmons had heard of him, everyone in SHIELD had. He was a legend. (And _of course _he thought Simmons was remarkable.)

"_You're _Daniel Whitehall?" Simmons chirped enthusiastically. "I didn't expect…." she grinned. "It's so nice to finally meet you! Thank you for agreeing to join us, I'm sure your experience will be _incredibly _useful." She turned to the others, bubbling slightly. "Mr. Whitehall led the first expedition to find water on the moons orbiting Delta three," she gushed.

"I had an excellent crew," he admitted modestly. "And we were hoping we'd find more than water."

"Because of you station 525 now has a… uh… a….," Fitz bounced on his toes as he fumbled for the word. "A…." He turned to Simmons.

"A reservoir of drinkable water," she supplied and he nodded gratefully.

"Yeah," he agreed. "They don't have to rely on shipments from the other stations anymore, it's made them much more...uh… independent."

Whitehall's eyes darted to Fitz, surprised, and he thought he saw them darken, just for a moment, before his polite smile returned. "Dr. Fitz I presume?" he asked, and though he couldn't explain it, something in his tone made Fitz uncomfortable.

"You can just call me Fitz," he answered casually, brushing it off because he must have been imagining things.

He frowned. "I must apologize, I didn't expect to meet you here. I was led to believe your… condition… prevented you from joining us."

"My heart's been looked at," he assured him, unease returning at the way the other man was examining him. "You can ask Trip if you want the details," he added gesturing towards his friend who was chatting with the two boys they'd met in the kitchen the night before.

"Ahh, I see." He didn't look for Trip and it almost sounded as if he didn't actually believe that the problem had been fixed but, again, Fitz dismissed it as a product of his (admittedly) overactive imagination. Sim grabbed the side of his leg, growling slightly before he told her she was being rude and she stopped though she didn't let go. "And your… robot," he went on, glancing down at her. "Has it been shielded as well? What is its function exactly? I'm assuming it doesn't assist with your speech."

"Of course she's been shielded," Fitz answered, looking down in surprise when his tiny companion hid behind his leg, beeping softly to herself. That was strange, she wasn't usually shy, and she rarely ever growled. "She's for when my hands act up- well really…. really just the one," he explained, holding it up and waving it.

"I see," he repeated coolly.

"It barely happens anymore," Simmons put in brightly, gliding over to stand beside him. "Fitz is one of the best, I'm…" she hesitated, her cheerfulness faltering briefly as she seemed to work through something. "...I'm _glad _he was able to come with us," she continued finally and as she glanced his way and Fitz could tell that she meant what she was saying.

Whitehall nodded. "It's good to see that you have confidence in your team," he told her approvingly. "It was very nice meeting you, I don't mean to be rude but I skipped breakfast this morning and the lunch buffet is calling to me."

"It was nice meeting you too," she replied, waving as he turned to walk away.

"You- you're really glad I'm here?" Fitz asked when Whitehall was out of earshot, meeting her gaze hopefully.

She stared back at him and he wondered why she looked so sad. "You'll be a valuable asset to the expedition," she answered, then her mouth twitched up into a smile and the sorrow in her eyes was replaced by a playful glint. "And I'm _always _glad for your company."

/-/-/

* * *

><p>So apparently a bazillion isn't a real number, it just means a big number. I was sure it was going to be something crazy like googol but nope.<p>

Also I don't know much about it, but I've read that there can be water on other planets (probably frozen) even if there isn't life. (Like the ice caps on Mars)

There's no Fringe reference this chapter (although, my headcanon is that Whitehall is Alfred Hoffman from The Bishop Revival, a murderous scientist with round glasses who lives forever, experiments on people and was once working for the Nazis... I can dream of a crossover XD), but the character Audrey Ramirez is named after the one from the Disney movie Atlantis: the Lost Empire. She's the mechanic in that movie, and it's a fun exploration story, so I thought it fit.


	10. Space Dancing

Skye hung with her hair splayed out around her like the mane of a lion, her feet hooked into the handlebar on what had once been the ceiling as she tossed M&Ms to Trip, who darted to catch them in his mouth as they floated through the air, trailing Sim, who'd grabbed onto his shoulders, behind him like a happily beeping cape.

Every now and then Skye would let out a loud cheer for an exceptionally impressive catch and Fitz would look up from where he was working on one of the DWARFs, (Dopey, he was always getting himself broken the silly thing) too late to witness the action, prickling in annoyance at the distraction.

"Do you two mind?" he grumbled after a sudden shout from Skye nearly caused him to burn a hole in his finger. "I'm trying to get some actual work done here, which I'm sure _both of you _must have plenty of, having actually been invited on this trip and all-"

"Relax Mr. Grumpy we've all got plenty of time," Skye dismissed, flicking another M&M towards Trip who snapped his attention back away from Fitz to snatch it from the air. "Oh C'mon! That's not fair! How does a doctor have the reflexes of a secret agent?" she complained.

He grinned at her, shrugging and she stuck out her tongue. "Some people are just multi-talented I guess," he laughed.

She groaned and tied the bag shut before tossing, overhand, as if she were pitching a baseball, towards Trip who breezily brought it to a stop against his palm, more intercepting it than catching it, still chuckling at her. Sim peered around his head to inspect the candy, reaching out a hand to poke the bag.

"OK, my turn," Skye challenged. "Let's see if I can break your record."

"No!" Fitz exclaimed, turning off the soldering iron and hooking it back into its dock before swiveling around to glare at them. "This is a… uh… a workstation and…" He threw his hands in the air. "I'm _working_."

Sim hid behind Trip and his friends stared at him, wide-eyed and clearly taken aback by his outburst.

"Sorry…" Skye mumbled, staring away uncomfortably. "We just thought… you've been shut up in here since the ship took off… we thought…"

"We thought we'd come visit," Trip finished, frowning in concern. "See how you were doing."

"I'm doing fine," he muttered, fumbling with a loose wire on Dopey before realizing he'd need tweezers to tuck it back in place and letting the DWARF go so that it floated in front of him.

He was fine, and what did it matter to the rest of them if the was holed up in the lab, doing the only job left for him after he'd been replaced by the insufferably easygoing what's-her-name and her kid brother Mr. Noodleface. Simmons even had herself a new assistant, Mr. Othernoodleface, so he didn't have washing out test-tubes and rechecking the research she'd done when she'd _left him_ for five months either, though she'd offered for him to join them. He couldn't help feeling he'd only be in the way.

It hadn't been long after the ship had departed that he'd realized there was _absolutely nothing _for him to do. His entire job had been taken over and he wasn't about to start working second to someone he knew nothing about (even if she did seem to be doing a good job so far).

Fixing the DWARFs was all he had, it was his only chance at truly being a productive member of the crew and damn it all into the vacuum if was going to fail at it just because the pair of clowns throwing candy back and forth in his workspace and distracting _his _assistant, thought he needed a break.

"Simmons says you haven't been sleeping much," Skye fussed, and he had to turn away because he really didn't want to talk about Simmons, he was having enough trouble concentrating as it was. "She's worried about you."

Fitz snorted. "None of you need to be worried about me," he insisted. "I'm busy, that's all."

"How's Dopey coming along?" Trip wondered, pushing himself off one of the walls so that he drifted towards the work bench. Sim launched herself off his shoulder, landing on the bench beside him.

"I've got it," Fitz snapped, snatching the small drone out of the air to hide it back in its box. "I know what I'm doing… it's…. there've just been a few setbacks, that's all."

Trip eyed him, annoyingly sympathetic. "You know, it's alright if you need more time to fix him, you haven't worked much on the DWARFs since the accident and everything's always harder in zero-G, even with your buddy here helping you out." He smiled at Sim who chirped back at him.

"Are you speaking as my doctor or my friend?" Fitz grumbled, unable to meet his gaze.

"Friend," he replied evenly.

Fitz was silent, flexing the muscles of his bad hand, testing them out. They _were _getting pretty sore.

He shrugged, still looking away. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

"You'll take a break with us?" Skye asked incredulously, as if she were surprised it had been so easy to convince him.

"Yeah, I guess," conceded. "I don't think you two are going to let me get any work done anyway and-"

But he was interrupted when she let out a victorious _whoo! _and launched herself towards him, locking their arms together so that they spun, suspended between the 'floor' and the 'ceiling', making him a little dizzy and almost causing him to collide with Trip who chuckled and swam backwards to avoid them.

"Skye," he groaned. "You know I can't stand spinning."

"But that's the best part of space dancing!" she gasped, widening her eyes, aghast at what he'd said.

"I can't stand space dancing either," he reminded her.

His friends exchanged a glance before turning on him with synchronized knowing grins.

"It's not… It's tonight isn't it?' he guessed flatly.

"Yup," Trip answered cheerfully.

"I'm having second thoughts…." he tried but Skye cut him off, shaking her head.

"Uh uh, you already said you were coming with us," she argued.

"But-"

She took his arm. "Nope, you're coming to Space Dancing Night," she decided and Trip nodded in agreement.

Damn it.

/-/-/

Simmons had been simulating new world scenarios for almost six hours now and she wasn't any closer to being ready to present to the rest of the crew. There were simply too many possibilities, and too many flaws in the old data they'd collected on their first expedition for any of it to be at all reliable anyway, but she stubbornly refused to lead the crew completely blind on this expedition. They deserved to know _something, _there had to be _something _she could tell them, a guess as to what they might find when taking into account the 12 planets' size, density and distance from their star.

The only thing she'd managed so far, however, was to decide that any of the planets _could _have liquid water on them, given the right orbital and atmospheric conditions. Planets 1, 3 and 7 were a little small, less likely to have a viable atmosphere, while 2, 4 and 8 were a bit large, the gravity would be over 1.5 times that of Earth for all three of them and, perhaps, their atmospheres would be _too _thick. 5, 6, 9, 10, 11 and 12 all had more reasonable diameters and they would be the first ones they'd visit, sending out their DWARFs to take samples before they sent any humans of course, though, with the confounding electromagnetic radiation, it wasn't as if they could entirely trust any of their findings.

Simmons groaned and propped her elbows on the side of the table, rubbing the back of her neck with both hands as an ache began under her skull. She had always strived for success, valued hard work and accomplishment, however she'd never felt so suffocatingly _pressured _to produce results as she did right then. It felt as if, should she fail, she'd be failing everyone aboard the expedition, failing them and putting them all in danger. It made no sense, but she had an awful, gut wrenching fear, that her next mistake was going to lead to something disastrous happening again.

And then there was Fitz.

If the chilling fear of losing him to her own shortcomings wasn't bad enough, she had his current condition to add to her list of worries. He'd barely spoken to her since they'd departed, shutting himself up in the lab and only coming out to eat when she prodded him or left food outside the door. He wasn't sleeping, unless he was sleeping in the lab (which hardly counted as a good night's rest) and she knew he was still angry about being replaced. The tension between them had thickened at every reminder that there was someone else doing his job so that now it felt as if they had to communicate with each other through a heavy, uncomfortable layer of mud.

As far as she could tell, he was having a hard time patching up Dopey though, as she tried to remind him each time she had the opportunity to speak with him, he'd already repaired Grumpy, Sleepy and Bashful, and none of the other DWARFs needed any tune ups so, really, he was almost there. Not that he seemed to notice. After seeing Audrey and Donnie doing his job his confidence had been shattered, which Simmons blamed herself for entirely. If she hadn't given into her own weakness, if she had just invited him onto the expedition, she wouldn't have ended up making him feel as if he wasn't needed.

Not that she wasn't still furious that he'd gone behind her back, or terrified that he was going to be hurt again. She still dreamt about it, about the agonizingly long few days when he'd been unconscious, gone to the world and completely helpless, or the time right after he'd woken up, when he'd been so frightened and confused. She still remembered the way he'd felt, trembling in her arms as his hot tears flooded down onto her neck, how much pain he'd been in, how it'd had all been her fault.

The holotable was processing her input too slowly, her rapid, jittery hand movements translating poorly into the machine, and a hot flame of frustration flared up in her throat when, in her haste she slipped up and opened the wrong file.

"No, no not that one!" she hissed. "Stop! Abort procedure." The file closed and she flicked it away impatiently, grunting angrily at as she did.

"You need a break," May said flatly from behind her, the sudden intrusion into the quiet space startling her so that she spun around, accidently tossing away another file.

"I- I'm fine," she insisted politely, though her head throbbed and she rubbed her temple, eyes closed, while she let out a long sigh.

May raised an eyebrow and held out a flat No-Pain strip which Simmons gratefully took, sticking it onto her forehead where it sunk into her skin, instantly alleviating the awful ache.

"Thank you," she told her gratefully, wondering how she'd known to bring it.

Her friend nodded. "The autopilot's on, we're flying through empty space for a few more days, you have plenty of time to find a solution but you're not going to if you burn yourself out first."

Simmons glanced feebly at the holotable, realizing she'd hit a wall and that May was right, standing there being frustrated at a machine wasn't helping anyone. A quick break wouldn't hurt, then she could come back with fresh eyes and, hopefully, come up with something a bit more substantial to tell her team.

She turned back to May, allowing her shoulders to relax and her mouth to turn up in a smile. "Did you have anything in mind?"

/-/-/

The cargo bay was already filled with a flock of dancing crew members by the time Fitz, Trip and Skye arrived. Fast, catchy tunes echoed through the largest open space on the ship, flutes and fiddles recorded long ago, replaying for a new generation.

Fitz had been space dancing a few times, it was a popular pastime for long, monotonous flights, adding dashes of yellow and orange to the grey of the journey, and Simmons absolutely loved it. He remembered nights when she'd tug him along behind her, bubbling on about how much fun they were going to have and, though he didn't think much of dancing, she'd been his star and he'd been a tiny planet, caught in her orbit, twirling around her however clumsy and unpracticed he was. Besides, if he were being honest, he'd loved every minute of it.

Without her though, the ridiculous claps and spins weren't in any way inviting, and he found himself clinging to the wall as Trip and Skye tried to convince him to swim out with them.

"They've already started," he protested. "I'll join in the next one."

"Fine," Skye conceded grudgingly, rolling her eyes at him. "But you better not spend the entire night pinned to the wall or I'm going to to have bring the dancing to _you._"

"You can't bring the dancing to me," he objected.

She raise her eyebrows challengingly. "Watch me."

"I'm pretty sure she can," Trip chuckled. "I've seen her at parties, you wouldn't _believe_ the things she stirs up."

"You haven't seen anything yet Trip," she told him, grinning impishly. "Just wait until we start dancing." At that she grabbed his hand and pushed herself off the wall beside Fitz, rocketing towards the crowd with a laughing Trip in tow.

Fitz watched them go, shaking his head but smiling in spite of himself. Sim let out two short beeps, tilting her head questioningly and chuckled at her. "Go ahead you silly little bolt."

Chirping happily, she hopped onto his shoulder and nuzzled her cheek against his, then sprang off to join the others, choosing to perch on Skye this time as she and Trip spun around each other.

"She's an impressive machine," someone commented lightly and he turned to see Audrey floating beside him, ponytail trailing behind her like a ribbon while she took in the dancers.

"Yeah," he mumbled, something thorny sprouting in his stomach. "I'm sure you'd know."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You know, no one ever told me that I was replacing someone," she reminded him irritably.

"I know that," he grumbled. "I'm not an idiot, I can put two simple things together even if _some _people think I can't. It's pretty clear you didn't think to question why you'd been called onto this expedition so last minute."

Audrey frowned at him, prickling. "You know, I get it, you're having a bad day," she shot back heatedly. "A bad year even, the way I heard it, and that's OK. You know what? We're all entitled to our bad days. What's _not _fine is you blaming it on me."

Fitz looked away, the thorny thing turning rotten as he flushed with shame. She was right, he was being an arse. He wasn't really ready to admit it yet though, so he didn't reply, silently stewing between burning ears.

She must have noticed his expression because she cooled slightly and her next words weren't nearly as sharp. "If by _some _people you mean Dr. Simmons, you've got it all wrong," she told him matter-of-factly.

Fitz bristled at her (correct) assumption, however he made sure to keep his voice unconfrontational because he didn't want to start a fight with her and he still felt bad about his earlier accusation. "How do you know that?" he asked.

Audrey chuckled. "I've heard her talking about you, she thinks a lot of your work and she's told me more than once that if you ever did get around to working with me we'd get things done twice as fast."

Fitz looked up. "She talks about me?"

"Whenever she's around." She shrugged. "She's been pretty busy lately, that's probably why she didn't come to the dance, though she let my dopey brother come down to have some fun." She nodded her head towards the the crowded space and he saw Donnie and Seth clapping their hands together merrily.

Hope sparked in his chest for a moment before he felt it fizzle out like a dying sparkler. "She can't think I'm, uh.. she can't think that I'm that good anymore," he lamented. "If she thought you'd do a better job." He turned to her, eyes wide as he realized how that'd sound. "Not that… I mean I'm sure you're completely qualified, better even, if Simmons chose you but… but it's just…" he stared down at his feet miserably, trailing off.

She leaned towards him, lowering her voice as if she had a secret. "Can I be unprofessional for a minute?" she inquired.

He shrugged weakly. "It's not as if _I've _been all that professional," he admitted.

"Fair point," she laughed, before she grew quiet again. "I don't think Dr. Simmons leaving you off the invitation list was about your heart _or _your head," she informed him evenly and he looked up, surprised. "She's too smart not to have thought about the shield and, like I said, it's clear she thinks you'd be right for the job. From where I'm standing, it doesn't seem like it's about you at all."

He frowned, confused. "But… but why else would she leave me off the list. She _specifically requested _that I stay behind, why else would she do that?"

Audrey shook her head. "I don't know, I thought maybe you would."

Fitz sighed. "I might have, a year ago I might have understood what she was thinking, but now?" He threw up his hands in defeat. "I can't get in her head anymore."

"That's rough," she sympathized.

"It's not your fault," he mumbled unhappily.

She chuckled at him. "It's nice to hear you say that."

A blush rose to his cheeks. "Sorry," he apologized earnestly, embarrassed about the way he'd been acting. "You must think I'm horrible."

She smiled at him and, for the first time, he noticed how friendly she was, and he knew that she was good with machines. It would have been _nice _working with her on the more vital projects instead of grumbling alone, fixing drones they probably couldn't even use and he cursed the wasted opportunity.

"Apology accepted," she replied amicably, holding out her hand. "Let's start again. Hi, I'm Audrey Ramirez."

He took it gratefully. "Leopold Fitz, nice to meet you. May I ask if I can help you finish up the last of your projects," he offered.

"That would be great," she accepted cheerfully. Something behind him caught her attention and she motioned with her chin towards the entrance. "Hey, it looks like she decided to come after all."

Fitz flipped himself around to see that May had just come in and was being greeted enthusiastically by Skye, who was trying (unsuccessfully) to pull her into the dance. Emerging behind her, still pulling herself through so that her tied hair streamed behind her, was Simmons.

Their eyes met and she smiled hesitantly, hanging back as if she weren't sure whether or not he wanted her to approach. It made him sad that that was something she felt she needed to think about, that the answer wasn't always '_yes, Fitz wants you near him,' _ the way it had always been, and it made the rotten thing fester inside of him that it was his fault.

So he excused himself and swam over to her, extending a hand and jerking his head towards the herd of happy, twirling travelers, beaming at her with as much starshine as he could produce because the only thing he could think of that was worse than all of that was her thinking his heart had stopped shining for her.

"Would you like to dance?" he invited warmly.

Her eyes sparkled and her smile widened, lighting with her own starshine, as she took his hand and she nodded while her perfect fingers curled around his palm. "I'd love to."

/-/-/

* * *

><p>Thank you notappeper for helping me with this! You are super awesome :D<p>

M&Ms survived the apocalypse, they just did somehow.

The Fringe reference is the line: "and that's OK. You know what? We're all entitled to our bad days. What's _not _fine is you blaming it on me." Peter says this to Olivia in the first season episode _The Cure_ after she's grumpy with him about unicorn jokes. She then apologizes and explains to him why she is so grumpy and he helps her fix part of the problem. It's beautiful. Much communication, such problem solving, wow. (*cough* I'm lookin' at you Fitzsimmons *cough*)_  
><em>

Space dancing is the zero-gravity version of square dancing (do you call it zero gravity?). I've been watching some videos of astronauts doing weightless stuff, and there was a funny part with them dancing which is where I got the idea. Also hair must be crazy in space, I haven't found anyone with super long hair, but one woman's hair was all sticking up, even though it was shorter. I imagine it just gets everywhere (and it might be easier to tie it back?)

If you are waiting for a talk don't worry, it's coming soon.


	11. Honest Conversations

They swam together towards the other dancers, launching off the wall to gain momentum before squirming, a little ungracefully, through the air. It didn't matter how they looked though, their hands were woven together, linking them beyond the physical world, and that made everything fantastic.

"I'm a little rusty at this," Fitz admitted when they settled into position and Simmons held out her other hand for him to take.

She watched with a small smile as a flush rose to his cheeks and he carefully met their palms together, gripping hers loosely with his fingers as if asking for permission. Amused, she squeezed his hand encouragingly and he strengthened his hold as they grinned at each other with matching pink faces.

Fitz was right, it had been a while, but already it was making her limbs light in a way that had nothing to do with the absence of gravity to give them weight.

"That's alright," she assured him softly as they pushed and pulled each other, towards and away in a steady pattern. Her eyebrows raised teasingly, her mood turned chipper by the music and the touch of his skin. "You never were a very good dancer."

"Hey-" he objected playfully but she laughed, shaking her head at him.

"I think that's what made it so much fun though," she decided, reeling him in perhaps a bit closer than was absolutely necessary before they had to push away again. "It was always… a surprise."

"Well it wasn't as if I ever got much practice, considering you were- _are _the only one I'll dance for," he told her, spreading a delighted grin across her face even as her ears grew hot and a crinkle of static shot across her abdomen. It made her palms sweat and her head spin, giddy with excitement, to know that she was special to him.

"I'm glad," she answered, meeting his sparkling gaze fondly. "Because you're my favourite person to dance with."

The blush that spread over his cheeks, paired with the bashful smile below, was so ridiculously endearing she wished she could kiss him, and she was happy for the easy joy being exchanged between them. He'd always been her favourite person to dance with because, with him, it was as if her heart were dancing too, something beautiful and indescribable from deep within her that was far more graceful than her body would ever be, and it met his so that they shimmered and wound around each other. Two hearts becoming something more.

"You've needed this," she commented, as they locked arms and spun themselves in a wide circle.

"We both have," he answered firmly. "You've been working so hard, trying to create a model of what we're going to find, but you know a lot of it won't be clear until we get there, don't you?" he reminded her. "You don't have to drive yourself crazy trying to figure out something that you can't possibly predict."

They stopped their spinning, pushing away from each other, and she sighed heavily as she rose her hands to half-heartedly clap them against his. It wasn't something she wanted to talk about and her mood was soured almost instantly.

"I have to try," she mumbled.

"Jemma it's OK," he assured her, smiling encouragingly. "No one's expecting you to make something out of nothing."

He really believed she wasn't failing them, she could see it in the way he was looking at her, that he trusted her, and she couldn't help feeling that she didn't deserve it.

"No," she shook her head roughly. "It's not. I'm not leading these people into a disaster again, I can't…" she swallowed and trailed off, realizing too late how much of her hidden doubts had been revealed by what she'd said.

Fitz frowned, holding his up hands rather than clapping back, gazing into her with sudden concern. "You've never led most of them anywhere before," he said quietly.

Her stomach twisted unhappily. "Well… I mean…"

Flustered, she'd forgotten the next part of the dance and she darted her gaze around the room anxiously, hoping to copy someone closeby. Fitz noticed her distress and held out his left hand for her take so they could push away from each other before pulling back again and switching hands, his weary eyes never leaving her face.

"What's all this about leading people into disaster?" he asked, bewildered though he kept his voice even and gentle, as if he could sense the the angry monster that was awakening inside of her to blow flames up her throat. Or perhaps he'd simply noticed how quickly her smile had vanished. "When have you _ever _led anyone into something bad?"

"I meant before," she told him miserably, seeing no way out of admitting the truth now. He wasn't going to let her out of it and, really, she'd always know she'd have to tell him eventually. They'd stopped dancing and he leaned forward to hear as she continued, sounding small because that was how she felt. "I mean… the way I led you..." Her chest hurt and the flames had moved up so that her eyes were hot and swollen. "The way I led you into the accident it…," she averted her gaze, blinking so that warn tears stuck to her eyelashes. "It was my fault," she whispered.

'_My fault'_ The worlds boomed inside of her like a bomb, exploding again and again so that she needed to clench her fists tightly to keep herself from bursting into tears.

Fitz stared blankly at her for a few seconds, narrowing his eyes as if he hadn't a clue what she was talking about. Then something seemed to dawn on him and he shook his head in protest. "No… you-"

"Hey! You two forgot to switch partners," Donnie told them brightly swimming over. "You're with me now."

Seth, who wasn't far behind him, rolled his eyes and grabbed the other boy by the arm. "They aren't switching partners you dweeb," he scolded. "They're obviously having a conversation that they don't want you interrupting with your big mouth. Sorry about that," he apologized, shaking his head at him in disapproval. "You have the _worst _social skills of anyone I've ever met."

"Oh, no, we're the ones who should have switched," Simmons squeaked, fighting to keep her voice even as the boys floated away, Donnie calling out his own apology as Seth pulled him along behind him.

"You think that what happened was your fault?" Fitz deadpanned, ignoring them. She couldn't read his expression, it was like he'd turned to stone and his mouth barely moved as he spoke, eyes trained on her as if the rest of the the room had emptied.

She nodded, tears gathering like the rain in her dreams, preparing for a storm.

"_That's_ why you didn't want me on the expedition!?" he realized loudly. He wasn't angry, not exactly, but it was something close. "Jemma how in all the universe could it have possibly been your fault?!" A few of the other dancers looked over and he lowered his voice. "We should find someplace better to discuss this," he decided, swimming away and motioning with his hand for her to follow.

He was right, this wasn't something she wanted overheard by the people who were meant to trust her. So she complied, trailing slowly behind him because her body had grown heavy and stiff, and they made their way out of the large rec room, into the hallway, drifting together until they found a quiet place where they wouldn't be disturbed.

"Who's been telling you this nonsense?" he demanded when they were alone. His eyes flared, as if he were already ready to challenge whoever it was right then and there.

"No one needed to tell me," she replied quietly, unconsciously lifting her hand towards him before drawing it back and squeezing her fingers against her palm, afraid to make contact, _ashamed _to. "I- I know that it was my fault."

'_My fault.' _Another series of explosions. She bit down on the side of her cheek, trying to stop her lips from trembling.

"Stop saying that," he demanded. "It's ridiculous."

"I was the one who said it was safe for us to land," she insisted, ignoring the shocked disbelief that was mounting in his expression as she spoke. "It was _my _decision to explore the planet's surface ourselves."

"A decision made based on flawed data," he protested, looking like he couldn't quite accept what he was hearing.

"I should have been prepared," she argued wretchedly, unable to allow him to lift the heavy weight from her shoulders because it was simply too heavy for him to budge. "I should have made sure we were ready, in case something went wrong."

"Prepared for the shuttle to fall out of the bloody sky?!" he questioned incredulously, overlapping the end of her last statement and she flinched at the force behind his words but he kept going. "You couldn't have predicted that that was going to happen," he asserted. "We had suits, we had masks and _that _was your decision too, to bring them, it's the reason we're both still alive."

"It's the reason _I _made it out unscathed," she reminded him painfully, the memory of what had happened still a fresh, oozing wound, refusing to heal even after so long a time had passed. How did anyone ever recover from doing something so unspeakable to someone they loved? "You gave me the mask, even though I led you-"

"You didn't lead me anywhere," he interrupted stubbornly. "I chose to go, I _chose _to give it to you. And I don't regret it, I've never regretted it."

Simmons could tell he was being sincere but she didn't understand.

Her shoulders jerked up and down and a short breath shook out of her. "How?" she asked. "You were so hurt…" In her mind she heard him struggling to speak, saw his desperation and terror as he reached out to her, the one who'd wounded him, like she was a guardian angel rather than a traitor. It left her chest filled with tar and she struggled to continue. "How..how can you not regret that? I failed you and I'm going to do it again-"

"You've never failed anyone," he asserted.

How could he say that? After everything that had happened to him, how could he not feel like she'd let him down? It didn't make any sense and the pool of tears finally spilled over, drops rolling onto her cheeks as her breath hitched and she couldn't stop the words from tumbling out.

"I hurt you," she rasped.

"No," he objected quickly. "No, Jemma you didn't, it wasn't your fault."

"It was," she sobbed. Her tears kept coming, building up under her eye because there was nothing to make them fall and she wiped roughly at the growing mass with her sleeve, sending a few of them floating off her face and hovering in the air between them as tiny, shining balls. "Oh no," she squeaked. "Oh, I'm m-making a mess."

"They'll evaporate," he murmured, unconcerned with the floating droplets. Hesitantly, he reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder, the gentle touch bursting a damn, causing her to shudder out another sob, before he slowly pulled them together, wrapping his arms around her torso so that she was grounded against him. "It's OK," he soothed.

She stiffened for a moment then, very slowly, returned the embrace, holding him tightly around his shoulders and clinging to the back of his uniform, bunching the fabric between her fingers even though it felt horribly twisted to let him comfort her about this.

"No," she whimpered. "No, I'm sorry. I- I'm so sorry." She shuffled her arms to pull him closer, weeping into his neck. She'd almost lost him, he'd almost died because of her. "I-I'm s-so- sorry."

"It's OK," he repeated softly, running his hand down her back, over and over in a slow soothing loop, his palm warm even through her clothing and surprisingly steady. "You didn't do anything wrong, it wasn't your fault." She squeaked again and he leaned his cheek against her hair. "Don't cry," he murmured. "It wasn't your fault Jemma, I promise, I _know _it wasn't your fault. Have you felt this way all these months?" he asked gently. "This entire time… you… you felt… guilty?" His voice grew small, almost frightened. "Is… is that why you left?"

Simmons shook her head. "N-not…" She paused taking a breath to steady herself, his scent pulled in with it, warm and right. "Not exactly," she admitted.

They moved apart, though he still gripped her shoulders, like he was worried she might break down again. He didn't need to be, though her decision to leave him behind had torn a fresh wound in her already broken heart, it wasn't something she regretted. It had made him stronger and so it made her stronger too.

"I was holding you back," she explained, raising a hand to tell him to wait as he opened his mouth to protest. "It's the truth Fitz, I was," she insisted. "I saw it, Mack saw it, I know you saw it too even if you won't admit it to yourself. I...," She heaved in a breath, a raw ache in her chest. "I was no good for you, all I wanted to do was help you, to fix what I'd done-"

"What had happened," he corrected firmly. "You didn't do it, it just happened."

He was adamant to draw the blame away from her and, although she wasn't quite sure she agreed with him, she saw no point in arguing and she threw him a weak smile before she continued.

"I wanted to help you, but I couldn't, I made things worse, so I left and I did the only thing I knew I would be useful to both of us- everyone actually."

"You figured out what went wrong," he finished.

She nodded. "Yes."

"And you didn't want me on the expedition because... Because you felt guilty?" His eyes were twin orbs, bright and uncertain and fixed on her. "You really don't... I mean..." He breathed in a long sigh. "I know, I'm not the person you used to know, that I'm... That I've... slowed down... I'm trying to do better, I am, but I know I'm not..." He shrugged unhappily. "I'm different now. Now I hold _you _back."

"That's nonsense," she told him. It was her turn to be firm, to make him believe that the thing that haunted him was only the creak of on an old space station not a real monster. It wasn't real. "And it doesn't matter if you've changed. We've _both_ changed but you'll always be my best friend, whatever you can or can't do. But, for the record, you were ready for this expedition. I was just too afraid to let you come along because..." Her voice broke and she felt fresh tears well up as she turned away, continuing in a whisper. "...because I couldn't bear the thought of losing you again."

"You were afraid?" he echoed softly, he sounded surprised.

"Terrified," she answered. "I still am."

"You don't have to be-" he soothed.

"Of course I do," she objected instantly. "You can't promise me you won't be put in danger and I certainly can't ask you to keep yourself cooped up in a lab when you're needed in the field."

"What use would I be in the field? No one needs me..." he muttered, and the bolt of fury his words shot through her snapped her head up so she was facing him once more, her gaze blazing across him.

"_I_ need you!" she hissed. How could he be so blind to how important he was? Not just to her, but to everyone. He was a supernova who thought he was a dull piece of debris, oblivious to the glorious light he shone on the universe. "Don't you ever forget that. You are _not _useless_. _I need you, the crew needs you, you're a valuable part of this expedition, whether you act like it or not. And you'd better start pulling your weight or I'm going to have to fire you."

He looked up, indignant until he saw the twitch in the corner of her mouth.

"You're joking," he realized.

"Of course I'm joking," she told him. "How am I going to fire you when we're out in space? This isn't a star cruise and you're not getting a free ride, not while I'm in charge."

"You could throw me out the airlock," he kidded, smirking at her.

"That isn't funny," she scolded, but she smiled back and they chuckled at each other.

There was a pause in which they floated, inches away from each other, unsure where to go from where the conversation had landed them. She knew Fitz didn't believe her, no quite, not yet and she couldn't shake off the guilt that stuck to her like super glue, but she felt as if he'd managed to chip some of it away and maybe, maybe she'd at least convinced him that _she _believed in him.

That was more than enough for the moment, a victory even. They should celebrate.

She held out her hand. "Let's finish our dance, shall we?"

He grinned at her, taking it. "Excellent idea."

/-/-/

Later that night they swam towards their room together, Fitz quietly content as he glided along while Simmons, unknown to him, was working up her courage for what was possibly going to be the hardest leap she'd ever made.

Sim jetted ahead, pushed forward by tiny air blowers Fitz must have installed in the days before their departure, somersaulting and playing in the fun new environment while he chuckled fondly at her. Simmons smiled, remembering a young pair of scientists behaving similarly during their first experience with weightlessness on their first expedition, jokingly named Project Elephant because their supervisor's enthusiasm for the long extinct creatures had driven her to tape up prints of them in the ship's lab. Between his cartwheels and spins, Fitz had enjoyed kidding about their need to address all the elephants in the room, to which Simmons had groaned and rolled her eyes.

"Don't tell Skye, but I had a lot of fun tonight," Fitz admitted, grinning widely, when they reached the door.

She blushed, cheeks pinkening above a small, shy smile. "It was wonderful," she mumbled, chiming happily though there was a clear note apprehension in the way she spoke which Fitz immediately caught on to.

He tilted his head questioningly, searching her face with gentle eyes, and she let out a breathy, nervous chuckle before averting her gaze.

"Jemma? Is everything OK?" he asked, voice low and filled with concern.

She took a deep breath and absently tucked a loose lock behind her ear, stomach churning and a buzz under her skin that wasn't entirely unpleasant but made her feel as if she were going to burst any minute, then forced herself to look up so that their eyes met.

The way he was looking at her, it was almost as if he were frightened, and she pushed up a reassuring smile because he didn't need to be. She'd accept whatever the outcome of this was, however much she wished for the ending that played out in her daydreams.

"Everything is fine," she promised before her tongue tied itself in a knot and she froze, searching for the words she had been practicing over and over for nearly a month now, waiting for right time to present them to him, when she hoped he'd understand. She couldn't wait forever, she realized that now, or the moment could pass and she'd be left regretting her silence. "It's just… you…"

'_Be brave.'_

She swallowed. "I know things haven't been perfect between us," she began shakily.

"It's OK," he soothed, casting her a warm smile floating so close that she inhaled his scent with each breath. "We're getting better."

She nodded, feeling stronger, though the buzz remained and her head spun a little. "We are and… and there's something I've been meaning to tell you since… well since the accident and… It's a bit long but if you could let me say it all the way through, I think…" She bit her lip but he was still smiling softly at her, nodding now, so she continued. "You'll always be my best friend, _always. _I know you will, even if I don't believe in fate or making impossible promises, because it isn't either of those if it's the truth, we're bound together even though neither of us can see it."

He was staring at her with so much affection, filled with wonder as if she were the star that fed sunshine to the thriving life of his world, and she had no doubts he felt the same way.

"A while ago, I'm not sure when but sometime before the accident, something changed." His eyes narrowed in confusion and she hurried on. "I… I began see you as something else." His eyes widened and they held their breath, standing on the edge together, waiting for her to continue so they could leap over it. "We've spent so long searching for a new world, dreaming of what it'll be like and if they'll be sunsets or rainbows or rainstorms, and I used to dream about us living there, laughing together in the rain." They smiled together because, she knew, he'd dreamed these things too. "And in my dreams we still laugh and watch the sun over the horizon side by side but now, when it starts to rain... you kiss me. You kiss me and it feels better than the rain, and I know it's only a dream but I want it… I _want _you to kiss me because…." she closed her eyes, pulling at her fingers because the next part was by far the scariest, but he took them and they steadied between his warm hands. His mouth tugged up, hesitantly, a light blush colouring his cheeks and she smiled too, her heart fluttering with hope. "Because I'm in love with you," she whispered.

She watched, ears burning, as his jaw dropped and he his eyebrows rose in astonishment.

"You… you…" he fumbled, at a loss causing her stomach to twist into knots, fearing she'd messed things up, that she'd said the wrong thing.

"It's OK," she blurted, sure she'd turned completely red. "You don't… if you don't _want _to kiss me-"

"When did I say I didn't want to kiss you?" he demanded, pulling himself out of his trance.

"Do you?" she squeaked.

He pressed his hand against the side of her face, his thumb gently stroking the skin under her eye and he grinned at her before leaning forward. She moved towards him too and they met in the middle, lips slowly colliding together with surprising coordination. It was better than anything her mind had ever fabricated, real and alive and soaking into her so that the buzz turned to music and a wonderful burning spread down her throat.

She wrapped her arms under his, pulling him into her and the motion caused them to propel what was, for her, backwards, her hair flying around him and they laughed with their mouths against each other before she pulled away and their shining eyes met.

"Of course I want to kiss you, you dazzling ray of starshine," he murmured, running his thumb over her cheek again. His words hit her like asteroids, peppering craters into a moon, only each explosion ended in exhilaration rather than destruction and the craters were brimming with joy rather than emptiness. She sighed happily, leaning into his hand as he spoke, hungering for more, and he chuckled at her, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe what was happening, her own delight reflected brightly in his expression. "I'm in love with you too."

/-/-/

* * *

><p>Thank you notapepper for helping me out with this chapter :D You are great!<p>

Thank you spitfire303 for suggesting space tears. I looked up a video on what would happen, and someone demonstrated it with a water bottle, they really just stick to your face and end up in a ball because there's no gravity to pull them down, but if you flick them they fly everywhere.

The Fringe reference is Project Elephant which is a military experiment in the second season episode _The Johari Window _that leaves the residents of a small town mutated.

Speaking of references, watch out for a Hunger Games one in the next chapter ;).

Also Donnie is super smart (like he is in the show) he just has poor social skills.


	12. Repairs

Fitz floated in his bunk, awake before his alarm but not entirely unhappy about it because Simmons had snuggled against him, suspended with him inside his sleeping bag, her head pressing into his shoulder and her fingers tangled between his. She ran her thumb absently over the top of his palm while they read over her predictions, the slow, easy motion still making his heart flutter and his cheeks flush even after being together for more than a week.

"So planet eleven then?" he asked, his attention drawn away from the thin plastic screen she held between them as he pecked a kiss into her messy hair, which had risen around him, tickling his cheek, because she hadn't yet tied it back for the day.

She'd bounced into his bunk the minute her eyes flew open, awakening him with a playful headbutt and a peck on the cheek while she gripped his sleeping bag to anchor herself beside him, their room lit by the glow of her plastic reader.

Any other morning he might have told her groggily that he wanted to sleep a little longer, but he knew she was nervous about presenting her findings and she wanted a quick practice run before the early meeting, so he'd shaken off his sleepiness with minimal complaints and after a quick trip to the toilet through a freezing hallway (another downfall of getting up early, it was standard on all ships and stations to lower the indoor temperature during the night cycle to conserve power) they'd settled together into his warm sleeping bag.

Sim, who had burrowed herself down into the sleeping bag to reboot by his feet had squirmed out, beeping happily, to greet Simmons, whose bright smile and ringing laughter at the little robot's affections made his grumblings crumble away.

Besides, he wasn't about to pass up an excuse to cuddle with her. Professionalism had meant keeping their new (absolutely fantastic) relationship to themselves for the time being and public displays of affection were out of the question. The multitude of preparations they needed to make as they approached the first planet on their list, compacted with the fact that Simmons' position as head of the expedition kept her nearly constantly on her toes (so to speak, her feet hadn't touched the ground in nearly two weeks) had also severely limited their private time, making precious moments such as this one much too uncommon and well worth losing a little sleep for.

"It seems like our best bet," she told him, chuckling at Sim who'd began fooling around with her air blowers, amusing herself by whizzing around the room. "It's around the same distance from the star as Earth was from the sun and around the same size too. It's as close to perfect as I've ever seen."

"We'll you must not have met Jemma Simmons then," Fitz murmured, smiling as her cheeks turned to rose petals.

"Hmm, I think she has a boyfriend," she commented teasingly. "And she's quite taken with him too, so you might be out of luck there."

He grinned, blushing deeply. "She... She is?"

She giggled, turning her head to kiss him and setting his face aflame as their lips moved against each other. "Yes," she whispered. Her forehead tapped affectionately against his before she returned her gaze to the glowing screen. "We'll send a drone first," she informed him. "Skye thinks she knows how to jam the interfering electromagnetic radiation, hopefully we'll be able to acquire a bit of useful data this time... Though we'll still will need to bring suits and masks, just in case." She frowned, eyes glazing over with uncertainty, and he knew she was thinking about the last time they'd landed on an alien planet.

He caught the edge of her jaw with the tips of his fingers, gently turning her head so she was facing him and he met her bright eyes with his.

"It's going to be OK darling," he promised, watching contently as a small smile lit her face at the word _darling_. "We've learned from our mistakes, we'll wear the suits on our way down this time and we'll have an extra shuttle ready to follow us, just like you planned."

"Maybe I should go down first, on my own," she suggested boldly.

His objection was instant. "No."

"It isn't fair for me to ask-" she protested.

"You haven't asked anyone," he reminded her firmly, moving his hand up to hold her cheek and run his thumb across the skin below her eye, his stomach twisting at the thought of her descending all by her lonesome, without anyone to help her if something went wrong. "We're all volunteers. You can't do this by yourself, and I won't let you use yourself as... uh... as a human guinea pig."

"But-"

"No," he pressed. "No one is going to agree to have you go down by yourself so... so you can just forget about it."

She pressed her lips together, averting her gaze, but they both knew he was right. Just convincing May to set the autopilot for a lone shuttle would be impossible, never mind explaining to the four dozen crew members why their leader felt she should take such an enormous (and entirely unnecessary) risk.

"Alright," she whispered.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, pressing his forehead along her hairline and lowering his voice when he spoke so that it lapped gently against her ear. "We're going to find it," he told her confidently. "Thanks to you we're finally going find a home that isn't made from metal and airlocks and when we do we can watch the sunrise together, and plant a garden under a blue sky."

"And I'll kiss you in the rain," she added softly, leaning into him and closing her eyes.

"It'll be wonderful," he happily agreed.

The alarm buzzed beside them and they grudgingly pulled away from each other to prepare for the day, but not before sharing one more kiss that left them both grinning so widely their eyes crinkled.

/-/-/

Several hours later, Fitz and Simmons sat side by side in the larger of the shuttles, strapped down into their seats, donning protective suits and oxygen tanks, their masks hanging beneath their chins, ready for if they were needed. Sim had her own belt, holding her down next to Fitz in case of a crash, but she was built to withstand even the harsh conditions of space and she didn't need a suit (though Fitz had commented earlier that a tiny one would have been adorable).

Around them sat a small handful of the volunteers, each similarly dressed, both Trip and Skye among them as well as Seth and Donnie, Audrey, Mr. Whitehall and two of their armed guards, Morse and Hunter, just in case they ran into any 'trouble'. Skye had a small, portable computer open on her lap, ready to jam the electromagnetic signal as they approached the planet's surface.

According to Dopey, the planet was safe. Skye had managed to work with Fitz and Audrey to create a pulse that, in theory, had protected it from any interference, and according to the readings the atmospheric pressure at sea level was around 1.2 atms, without any signs of toxicity and the oxygen concentration was a satisfactory 27.3 %. Their only concern was the temperature, hovering steadily near the lower side of 0 degrees Celsius where the drone had landed, meaning any fresh water would likely be in solid form, ice, or even snow, however Simmons was optimistic that the location they'd chosen, which was far south of the equator, was simply experiencing what, on Earth, had been called winter.

The engine hummed to life, controls lighting as May flicked on the shuttle's systems.

"Everyone suited up?" she asked, receiving a thumbs up from each member of the small exploration team. "Good, then here we go."

"This is it," Fitz whispered beside Simmons. "Let's see if 11's our winner."

She smiled at him, taking his hand in both of her own, a flicker of apprehension causing her breath to catch in her throat before he placed his other hand over hers, stroking it gently and she managed a stiff nod.

The last time they'd been in a shuttle like this one things had gone terribly, horribly wrong and she wondered how he could be so calm until she saw him swallow and felt his grip on her tighten, ever so slightly, pupils dilating though he kept his stoic expression.

"I think the odds are in our favour this time," she agreed bravely, forcing another smile which he returned before a low, buzzing alarm reverberated through the cramped space, accompanied by the flash of red lights overhead and they gazed up, startled.

"What is that?" Skye asked anxiously, looking around her with wide eyes that matched the those of the passengers around her.

"There's a problem with the shuttle's attachment to the ship," May explained flatly, frowning at her controls and fumbling with a few of the switches. "It won't disengage."

Simmons saw Fitz exchange a glance with Audrey, already reaching for his buckle to unstrap himself.

"We'll take a look," he announced.

Simmons followed them back into the ship, floating through the side door alongside Sim, and watched as they opened the wall control panel, the little rectangular door sliding to the side with a _whoosh_ after accepting Audrey's handprint.

"It's the locking mechanism," Audrey announced almost instantly. "It looks like it's been jammed shut by something."

"It does," Fitz agreed. He shook his head. "I don't understand, what could have jammed it?"

"Space junk?" she suggested, tapping a the screen a few times, only to receive the same red warning lights as inside the shuttle.

"That doesn't make any sense," he told her. "Nothing should be able to get in there, it's suppose to be... uh... There's meant to be shielding."

"It's been turned off," she let him know, pointing at the screen, eyes narrowed in confusion. "There must have been some sort of malfunction."

Fitz moved closer, inspecting the information displayed before them in deep concentration.  
>"We'll need to fix it from the outside," he muttered at last.<p>

"You mean outside the ship?" Simmons questioned, working hard to keep the note of concern from shrilling her voice.

It was their _job_ to take care of the ship, and part of that job involved the occasional spacewalk. Into the cold, empty vacuum, only thin fabric and a bit of plastic preventing their blood from boiling and their flesh from freezing. She'd seen firsthand the gruesome aftermath of a botched spacewalk during her training back on her home station only a few months before she'd met Fitz, and the awful images her mind was flashing before her made her heart clench painfully.

He had done it before, they both had, but not since the accident had jammed the realization of how easily she could lose him into her throat like poisoned barb, and never had the thought of him stepping out into the empty darkness scared her as much as it did then.

However Fitz was still puzzling things out, distracted, and he responded to her without noticing her distress. "Yeah, there's no other way to access it. Seems like a two person job," he remarked, looking to Audrey, who nodded to show she concurred, before his gaze met Simmons'.

He must have seen the fear in her eyes because his own softened and he swam over to her, taking both her hands in his own.

"We'll be fine," he vowed, giving them a tight squeeze and smiling lightly. "I've done this more times than I can count." He chuckled. "But you know that don't you? You were there every time. I think you'll have to sit this one out though, I know how much you love seeing the stars but there won't be a lot of room to... uh... to maneuver, and besides we'll probably need you here at the control panel... er... If that's alright," he added, seeking her permission because she was, technically, his superior.

She nodded numbly, understanding that she couldn't let her fear stand in the way of the expedition. There was too much riding on their success, too many people relying on them for her to allow her past trauma to cloud her judgment

"Right, excellent plan, I'm sure that we'll be able to solve the problem, provided that we all work together." Though she was able to feign an optimistic smile, she couldn't keep her voice from squeaking as she spoke and he squeezed her hands again, smiling back encouragingly.

"I can do this," he insisted.

"I know you can," she assured him swiftly, not wanting him to think she had any doubt in his ability. This wasn't about that.

He knew though, she could tell by the way he was staring into her, that he knew she believed in him, that he knew why, when he began to pull away she only tightened her grip.

"Please be careful," she begged, an ache spreading across her chest and she couldn't help running her gaze across his face, charting his features in case...

'_In case nothing, nothing is going to happen_,' she scolded.

"I will be," he answered softly, allowing her to pull him into a quick, firm embrace, taking comfort in his familiar shape before forcing herself to push away so he and Audrey could search the supply closet for helmets.

"I'll tell the others what's happened," she decided, slowly pulling herself along the wall towards the shuttle door.

"We'll be back soon," Audrey promised her, grinning between them in a way that made Simmons feel as if she'd understood exactly what their exchange had been about, though she didn't comment. "Don't worry, we're both pretty good at this, not that I have to tell you that."

Simmons smiled back grateful for her confidence. "No, you don't."

/-/-/

"Ready for your first trip out the airlock?" Fitz asked Sim cheerfully, his tiny companion clinging to his shoulder and staring curiously out the small, round window as they prepared to exit the ship, spreading a grin across his face when she chirped excitedly, absolutely adorable in her tiny harness.

"Are _you _ready?" Audrey inquired, her finger hovering over the button which would open the airlock door.

He tapped the clear plastic of his helmet and gave his own harness two quick tugs, ensuring that it was securely attached. "All set."

She nodded and the door slid open with a metallic _thunk, _air rushing out the opening and into the infinite emptiness. Maybe it was only in his imagination, but Fitz thought the open abyss before them actually _looked _quietly dangerous and cold as hell, however beautiful the still darkness was, dotted by specs of white light.

"After you," she offered, gesturing with her hands for him to exit first.

They crawled one by one along the outside of the ship, following the handholds until they reached the shuttle and pausing to have May reassure them that the shielding was still off before they approached the locking mechanism.

"Wouldn't want to be thrown off," Fitz pointed out, eying the invisible boundary wearily. "It'd be very unpleasant being hit by the shield, even with the harness to keep us from floating away."

Audrey had hummed her agreement as they waited for the go-ahead to approach.

As they'd suspected, a large hunk of debris, rock and ice by the looks of it, had stuck itself in the hinge of one side of the lock, preventing it from opening to release the shuttle. It seemed as if it had been bounced off the haul of the ship, leaving a large dent, but thankfully the thick exterior had held up to the impact.

Using tiny lasers from the tool belt wound around the waists of their suits, they set to work breaking it up into smaller fragments so that they could dislodge it. The ice vaporized easily on contact with the hot red beam, floating off as grey mist, but the rock was a little trickier, sometimes requiring several passes with the laser before it cut all the way through, as well as a bit of creative maneuvering.

Fitz let Sim take over after a minute, his hand was shaking worse than usual that day and he didn't want risk damaging any part of the ship. The last thing he wanted was to have to go back for a can of amber to reseal a new leak or rebound a burned off piece. The amber protocol this far out was a nightmare.

The job was just about done and Sim had handed him back the laser to store in his belt when a quiet hum froze him to the spot, eyes widening as he realized what it was.

"Move," he barked, causing Audrey to whip her head towards him, startled before she too noticed the ominous sound and she let out a gasp, scrambling to push out the last bits of ice before shoving herself clear.

Fitz trailed closely behind her, herding her ahead, but his hand wasn't cooperating and he lost his grip on one of the holds when, in his haste, he reached for it too quickly, the blunder pausing him long enough that he was right next to the shielding when it snapped back on.

The blunt force sent him flying out away from the shuttle, jerking to an abrupt halt when he reached the end of the rope he was hooked onto. He heard Audrey call out to him across the communications device in the collar of his suit before the deafening hiss near his left ear told him his helmet had been cracked and he was very quickly losing both heat and air.

Panicking, he grabbed onto the rope, desperately gulping in nothing as he tried to pull himself back while his head spun and the edges of his vision darkened. It was getting colder and colder with unimaginable swiftness and the air rushing past his ears, roaring like a windstorm, was near impossible to take in. Thoughts of suffocating, freezing to death, sent jolts of fear across his stomach, intensifying when his now clumsy fingers lost their hold on the rope and he began drifting backwards, flailing weakly in a terrified attempt grab it again.

Then someone had an arm around his side, dragging him towards the airlock door and after that he thought he must have passed out briefly because the next thing he knew he was back aboard the ship, strapped against the wall as Audrey pulled off his helmet and pressed a mask to his face, ordering him to take deep, slow breaths while Sim hung onto his arm, letting out a rapid string of distressed beeps until she must have felt him regaining consciousness and fell silent.

"Is he OK?" a high, frightened voice demanded and he looked towards it to see Simmons hauling herself in hurriedly, followed closely by Trip who was carrying his medical kit. She reached him swiftly, kicking off the wall so that she jetted towards them, then lay a hand on his arm, searching him over with bright, anxious eyes. "Fitz?" she breathed.

"I'm... OK..." he wheezed. "Thanks... Thanks to you."

He smiled at Audrey whose mouth twitched up in return, still clearly shaken, and Simmons thanked her gratefully before turning back to him and clamping a tight hug around his shoulders.

He felt her arms trembling around him as she let out a long, shaky breath, clutching tightly to the back of his suit before her hands moved up into his hair and she began planting a series of frantic kisses back and forth across his face, each one pressed firmly against his skin, as if she'd thought she'd never have another chance and he closed his eyes, soaking them in and moving his arms to cling to her suit because he'd thought the same thing, he'd thought they'd never see each other again. When she finished she pulled him back against her, bundling him up in her embrace like a snug blanket and pushing her cheek into his as a watery sob shook her body.

"I'm OK," he repeated softly, stronger now and he felt her nod as he rubbed slow, soothing circles onto her back but she didn't loosen her iron hold on him for another full minute, only relinquishing it when Trip told her he wanted to check him over, just in case, to which she instantly agreed.

Still, she kept her fingers hooked onto his shoulder and her eyes locked onto his face as their friend set to work, checking his heartbeat and breathing using a sonic stethoscope.

Fitz smiled bravely at her and moved the tops of his fingers over hers in gentle circles, not wanting her to worry because he _was_ perfectly fine, but he couldn't push down the hard lump of doubt that had settled itself into the back of his throat.

He'd messed up. His bloody hand had failed him and he'd put not only himself in danger, but Audrey too, who'd risked herself to rescue him. For the first time since he'd boarded the ship, he wondered if he really was ready for the demanding job of exploration, or if he was actually a liability, putting the entire expedition in jeopardy.

/-/-/

* * *

><p>Thanks notapepper for helping me out and being awesome and knowing cool stuff about space :D<p>

The Fringe reference is the Amber. Amber is something used to block off wormholes in the alternate universe and the protocol for using it is called the Amber protocol.

I'm not 100% sure how accurate the air coming out of his helmet is, apparently you can go outside in space without your head exploding, the most immediate problem is the lack of oxygen, but that was just from one thing I read. Also, thanks to notapepper I now know space debris (or space junk) is a serious issue in space and it can cause a lot of damage.


	13. Something Completely New

Fitz and Simmons sat side by side, once again buckled into their seats on the shuttle, ready to depart. The glitch in the shielding remained in need of investigation, however they'd wanted to set out before the area their drone had landed in rotated too far away from the main ship with the slowly spinning planet, and they would have to get to it when they returned.

"You're sure you're alright?" Simmons whispered anxiously, scanning Fitz for any sign of injury. Trip had given him the all clear and he did _look _healthy enough, however she couldn't keep herself from glancing his way every so often, her attention drawn to him the way it might have been to a cup sitting too close to the edge of a table, except that what was inside of him was so much more precious than tea or hot chocolate.

"I'm fine," he promised, though she saw his gaze flicker nervously towards the front window as May, once again, fired on the engines and the shuttle began its descent.

She nodded, sucking in a deep breath in an attempt to calm her bouncing nerves that were making her stomach twist and churn unpleasantly. They'd seen the entire incident, streaming in live from the outside cameras, and the terrible helplessness she'd felt, watching her team, watching _Fitz,_ struggle to move out of the way before the shielding blasted him off, unable to do anything to help them, had held the crushing weight of a rockslide.

Then his helmet had cracked and she'd switched into autopilot, dashing out towards the airlock doors without much thought about what exactly she was going to do when she got there, only knowing that she needed to do _something_.

There'd been nothing though, nothing for her to do except hold on to him and weep with relief that he hadn't been killed trying to fix a problem they still didn't understand. It made no sense, but she'd felt responsible. She'd led them out there, everyone aboard the ship was her responsibility, including Fitz, and it had been her idea to take the larger shuttle so they could bring more people, like Skye, who was now tapping away on her portable computer, preparing to jam the interfering electromagnetic radiation.

"What do you think we're going to find down there?" Fitz asked, pulling her out of her worryings. "Do you think there'll be monkeys?"

She shook her head, smiling in amusement. "Fitz this is an alien world, life here would have evolved completely separate from life on old Earth, it'll be like nothing we've ever seen before." She couldn't keep the wonder from colouring her voice as she imagined all the amazing new discoveries they were about to make, assuming there was indeed life on the planet they were descending onto, and she wondered if his question had been a subtle attempt to distract her.

"So... no monkeys?" he guessed, sounding just a little disappointed. "I suppose... I suppose they're gone..."

"Every known species has been extinct for nearly a century," she reminded him, giving his arm a sympathetic pat. "But at least you still have Sim." The little robot chirped beside him and he smiled down at her. "And perhaps we'll discover more fantastic creatures, with such a high oxygen concentration, they might be fairly large, giants even."

"I hope nothing tries to eat us," he fretted, eyes widening at the thought.

"Things are going to eat us?" Skye piped up across from them, squeaking in alarm.

"What?" Donnie exclaimed, turning his attention away from his conversation with Seth about which one of them was going to throw up after the sudden reintroduction of gravity.

"Nothing is going to eat us," May told them flatly. "That's why we have Morse and Hunter." She tilted her head towards the pair of guards who lifted their weapons calmly to show the crew. "Skye, we're about to enter the atmosphere."

"On it," she replied, setting her attention back to her computer and speedily hitting her keys. "Scrambling the creepy alien pulse that's trying to knock us out of the sky… now."

Turbulence shook the cabin and a bright light shone outside the window, energy in the form of heat and light from the friction between the speeding shuttle and the planet's atmosphere. It almost hurt to look at but it was beautiful. Gravity returned, drawing the blood away from Simmons' head, down towards her feet so that she was left nauseous and dizzy and marveling at how May was able to continue piloting them safely towards the ground when she must have felt the same way.

Soon the light cleared, allowing the world below to come slowly into focus as they drew closer, the features of the land growing more and more detailed, and Simmons let out a gasp of amazement at what lay before them.

"What are those things?" Seth asked, squirming in his seat for a better look.

Donnie, who sat on one side of him, fidgeted to see past his head and Mr. Whitehall on the side near the window stared out with calm curiosity.

Long, pale stalks stretched upwards through the snow covered ground, reaching at least eighteen feet or more and ending in large elliptical spheres that seemed to be floating like balloons in varying shades of red, from crimson to scarlett. Dotted between them were what almost looked like pine trees, except that their branches hung low, grazing the ground like willows and the blue-green needles must have been nearly a foot long.

"I- I think…" she shook her head, grinning widely and buzzing with excitement. "I think that might be vegetation."

"You mean those are plants?" Audrey wondered, craning to see from where she was strapped down to her seat.

Simmons laughed in delight. "No… not plants," she told her, unable to look away, watching the things below them as they approached. Hungry for more. "Plants are from Earth. Those are something completely new."

"But they're alive," Fitz guessed and she glanced briefly at him to see he too was bursting with excitement, eyes round and glimmering as his gaze shot back and forth between her and the approaching planet.

She chuckled. "Well… I don't know, I'd need to get a sample- once we've landed of course- a few samples actually. Oh and we should take pictures of everything we see! For documentation purposes. I wonder how they obtain food… they seem immotile, perhaps they gain energy from some sort of chemical reaction, or even something similar to photosynthesis." Another loud, exhilarated chuckle. "The might also trap prey, the way certain species of carnivorous plants did on Earth-"

"Woah, wait," Trip interrupted, appearing horrified. "Are you telling me those things might want to _eat _us?"

"Why is everyone so worried about being eaten?" Hunter complained. He turned to Morse who rolled her eyes at his grumblings and crossed his arms in an offended huff. "It's like we aren't even here."

"I'm sure as long as we're careful, we'll be fine," his partner put in.

_Careful_

Right. Simmons had been so wrapped up in the thrill of new discovery that she'd let her guard down, forgotten for a moment about the potential danger they faced whether it was from the planet itself… or from its inhabitants, though hopefully they were friendlier than their first visit had led them to believe. Either way, no one else was going to be hurt because of her, of that she was resolute, and the easy joy she'd felt only a minute ago settled to the back of her thoughts as her expression sobered and she switched back into mission mode.

"We'll send one of the drones out first," she decided, catching Fitz out of the corner of her eye, turning to her in surprise at the sudden transformation, though he nodded in agreement.

"They're all ready," he let her know, matching her formality instinctively.

"We should reach the surface in a few minutes," May announced. "I see an open patch of ground about a kilometer ahead of us, I'm going to try to set us down there."

As their descent continued, Simmons stared ahead, nervous knots reforming in her stomach. She'd feel a lot better when they had at least landed safely- not that she had any doubts about May's piloting abilities, she was one of the best- it was just that their previous crash still haunted her like a waking nightmare.

Noticing her discomfort, Fitz reached out his hand, carefully taking hers and giving it a firm squeeze. She glanced down at where his fingers wrapped comfortingly around her palm, more than just warmth seeping into her skin, before casting her gaze up to meet his, her heart stretching towards him as he smiled at her.

"We did it Jemma," he breathed and she couldn't help smiling back, toasted by the glow coming off of him. "We found it."

'_We don't know that yet,'_ she thought but she squeezed his hand back and instead answered him optimistically, filling her voice with what she hoped sounded like genuine cheer. "I think we just might have, Fitz."

/-/-/

"Before I open that door there are some rules we need to go over," May announced, swiveling her chair towards them as the small crew hurried to undo their belts. "You do not touch anything with your bare hands, you do not wander further than ten feet from Morse and Hunter, we are here to collect samples of the dirt, air, snow and any living thing we find but you are to _use gloves._" She swept her gaze across the cabin, letting it linger on Donnie and Seth until they nodded solemnly. Then she turned to Simmons. "Are we safe to exit the shuttle?"

Simmons was still scrutinizing the data Dopey had brought back, flicking through it as she muttered under her breath, something Fitz knew she only did when she was stressed and under a lot of pressure. He was sure she'd gone over it at least three times and he'd never seen her so uncertain about her own assessment as she was when she rose her head to hesitantly nod at May.

"It- if this data is correct…" Her face hardened and she exhaled slowly before shooting her a curt nod, gathering confidence. "Yes. It should be safe."

"Good," May answered. "Let's get started then."

She hit a switch and the door at the back dropped open, revealing the planet's surface which was covered in snow that brightly reflected the sunshine, prickling at their eyes like tiny needles so that they had to blink a few times until their vision adjusted.

"It's bloody cold out there," Hunter commented grouchily, wrapping his arms around himself as Morse, once again, rolled her eyes at him.

"That's why we brought these," she told him, tugging at the fabric on the front of her suit. "They're good enough for space, they should be good enough for this place."

He grumbled again, unconvinced, but didn't say anything more.

It _was _freezing, even with the suit Fitz could feel it on his cheeks and around his ears, pricking a little, like nothing he'd ever experienced before, and it wasn't entirely horrible. It felt nice, fresh, and it smelt like clean, cold water.

There was a soft howling _whoosh _and a bit of the snow was kicked up like shimmering dust, sliding across the thick layer that remained stationary and covered the land as far as they could see like quilt.

"Is that-?" Skye asked breathlessly.

Simmons made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a laugh, lit like a sparkler and craning forward as if she were being drawn out the entrance by some invisible force. "It's _wind," _she told her. She turned to Fitz, beaming widely. "Fitz look, it's _wind._"

"I am looking at it," he chuckled, wishing he could kiss her she was so unbearably adorable, while at the same time bubbling like a hot pot from his own excitement.

Together they crept forward, hearing the others follow behind, until they reached the end of the ramp, peering down at the mat of frozen water.

"You should go first," he told her. "You brought us here, you should be the first to know what it's like to…" He gestured at the world before them. "To step onto this."

Surprised, she looked back at their team and they nodded, smiling encouragingly.

"Go on," Skye urged.

Simmons returned them a tiny smile and Fitz watched, heart in his throat, as she lifted her foot to step onto the alien world, sinking into the snow so that it covered her boot above the ankle, and her wide, toothy grin returned as she took another step.

"It's so strange," she marveled. "It's like walking on a wet sponge… or… or maybe a giant plate of frosting."

Fitz followed her out, nearly stumbling as his foot sank into the strange new form of water, sunshine warming his face through the cold like a very strong lamp, grinning in disbelief as the wind rustled his hair, unlike anything he'd ever felt before.

The others flocked out around them, stepping carefully though all of them wore expressions of giddy amazement, even May had a smile that made her eyes sparkle when a gust of wind blew snow around her ankles and tugged at her loose hair so that it swayed like the chains of many swings.

Then Seth let out a shout and he and Donnie darted out, Sim right on their tail, followed closely by Audrey, then Trip, Skye and Mr. Whitehall, all leaving tracks in the powdery canvas like pencils on a blank page.

May trailed behind them, a little slower, but Fitz was sure he heard her chuckle to herself before she sharply reminded Seth that throwing the snow at Donnie counted as touching it. Morse and Hunter circled around them, eyes trained on the thick growth of strange red balloons on sticks, as if worried something was going to spring out of it, but when Morse kicked some of the snow at him, Hunter cast her a playful grin and kicked some back at her ankles.

After a few minute of basking in the strange new world, Skye made her way back inside, along with Trip and Mr. Whitehall who helped her pack up her equipment and May and Audrey soon joined them too, gathering gloves and a sampling kit, leaving Fitz and Simmons standing beside each other, shuffling to the side of the shuttle when Mr. Whitehall exited with a handful of containers and a pair of gloves.

They should go help, Fitz knew, but he wanted just one more moment, out in the air and the cold, surrounded by snow and wind and sunshine and whatever the hell the giant red creatures were. Most of all, he wanted a moment to take in Simmons, staring around as if she'd entered her very own personalized toyshop, except that her toys were an entire world of new discoveries and he thought it was funny, how beautiful she looked when she was in complete awe of the beauty around her.

She turned to him, rainbows and rainstorms in her eyes, and they laughed gleefully, feeling as if they'd entered the world from their dreams. In the same instant they flew towards each other, tangling together in a loose embrace as they hopped around excitedly, spinning in a joyous, choppy circle that involved each taking a turn at lifting the other off the ground and pivoting on their heels until, unused to having something pulling them down, they lost their footing and tumbled together onto the thick snow on the side of the shuttle, a giggling Simmons landing half on top of a giggling Fitz, pushing herself up so that she was hovering over him, a hand on each side of his shoulders. Then their eyes met and they fell silent, beaming at each other before she leaned down to press a soft kiss to his mouth, nuzzling his nose and chuckling like bells as she pulled away and sat back up.

Fitz rose with her, a little dazed and unsure if his dizziness was from the spinning, or the abrupt transition out of weightlessness or just the way she was looking at him but, whatever it was, in that moment, everything was perfect.

Then the moment ended with a steady series of high beeps sounding from beneath the shuttle.

They turned together, smiles quickly fading, and Fitz instantly recognized the object flashing a blue light on the shuttle's metal underside, only a few feet away. Judging by the sharp gasp beside him, he guessed Simmons did too.

It was some sort of bomb, laying at the end of a trail of disturbed snow, as if someone had thrown it there without them noticing, and it had a timer on it that was quickly ticking down towards zero. The count was already at five when they'd spotted it, leaving them barely any time to run, nevermind warn the others who were still inside, standing just above it. Fear rushed over him like cold water and they scrambled to their feet.

What happened next was a blur, a dream turned to a nightmare in the blink of an eye. Before he could stop her, Simmons dove for the device, snatching it up and rolling away with it, the force of her dive propelling her several feet from him and the shuttle. The instant the beeps sped up, signalling the end of the countdown, she curled her body around it, using herself as a human shield to keep in the sudden explosion that shook the ground and boomed in his ears.

Neither of them had time to scream before her body spasmed sickeningly against the blast, leaving her silent and unbearably still.

"Jemma!" he screeched, plowing towards her.

He nearly crashed on top of her when his clumsy legs tripped him up in the unfamiliar environment, hitting the snow with such force that it was shoved between his fingers and up his sleeves, but he didn't notice the icy water against his skin or his throbbing knees. There was only her, lying unmoving on her side, gasping in wheezy breaths that bubbled awfully, as if she'd swallowed a large amount of water, and the terrifyingly large pool of blood that was forming beside her, soaking into the white.

"Help!" he called desperately, hearing the other's pounding feet clang down the ramp. "We need Trip! Hurry!"

Being as gentle as possible, he shifted her onto her back, lifting her head to rest on his lap rather than the freezing, wet ground and fighting back a wave of nausea when he saw the damage that had been done by the blast. It was probably a small miracle that she was still breathing, staring hazily up at him and, somewhere, he knew she wasn't going to make it, but the rest of him couldn't accept that and he pressed his trembling hand against the largest of her wounds, trying hopelessly to stem the bleeding.

She groaned weakly at the pressure and, eyes filling with tears he used his free hand to smooth the hair from where it stuck to her grey, glistening face. "I'm sorry," he murmured, doing his best to hide his fear because she was probably frightened enough as it was. "I'm sorry it… it h- hurts, but I have to stop it."

Why hadn't anyone reached them yet?

"Hurry up!" he screamed, unable to tear his gaze away from her, afraid that when he turned back she'd be gone.

Eyes glazing over, she stared up at him, gurgling again as if she were trying to say something and he passed his palm soothingly down the side of her cheek over and over again, feeling as if he too had been blasted open. He'd rather it had been him.

"Shh," he urged. "I've got you, just stay with me darling."

He paused his steady caresses when she leaned into his touch, still watching him as if she he was the rope stopping her from floating away into the darkness, though he could see it creeping up on her, could see the light leaving her eyes. His vision blurred and he blinked hard to clear it, not wanting to break contact.

"It's going to be OK," he croaked but she was fading, eyes already closing, however he thought he saw the corner of her mouth quirk up in the smallest of smiles, as if she were saying goodbye. "No," he whimpered, losing his courage when she lost consciousness. "No, no, no, don't... please." At last he ripped his attention away from her to call out to their friend, furious now at how long he was taking. "Trip hurry up!"

But he was already there, glancing miserably between Simmons and something in front of them, his hands raised as if in surrender. The rest of their landing party stood around him, matching his pose and, slowly, as if he were a poorly oiled old hinge, Fitz creaked his head around to look in front of him, finding himself face to face with the barrel of gun.

He wasn't scared. He should have been but he could feel Simmons' blood seeping between his fingers, hear her breaths becoming shallower as the seconds ticked past and he knew he was losing her. What could whoever was holding the gun possibly do that was worse than that?

She needed help, if there was any chance at all that she could survive they needed to try but they couldn't do anything if Trip couldn't get to her so Fitz did the only thing he could think of, he begged.

"Please," he squeaked, not recognizing his own voice it was so thickly strained from pain and desperation. He stared into the man's eyes, his own swollen and leaking tears that streamed down his cheeks, burning against the freezing wind, as he groveled shamelessly both with and without words. "Please let him help her."

The man glanced briefly at Trip then back at Fitz, hesitating.

"She's only twenty seven," Trip told him quietly, joining in Fitz's plea.

"And her favourite pattern is polka dots," Skye added clearly, though he could hear that she was crying. "All the birthday cards she gives me have polka dots on them, she never misses my birthday."

"She's brave," May put in. "She risked her life to save us."

"She's never seen a sunrise," Fitz whispered, gazing down at Simmons and grazing his thumb shakily across her now unsettlingly cool cheek, his heart breaking at how still and empty and _un-Jemma-like _she looked.

Jemma Simmons was a dazzling flame, animate and alive and radiating warm light onto everyone lucky enough to find themselves in her presence. Now though, she'd gone dark, nothing left but smoking charcoal and he was freezing to death without her.

"She really wanted to see one," he mumbled softly, picturing the way her smile would reach both ears and her eyes would sparkle when, at last, she set her sights on the star, rising over the horizon as the tiny patch of the planet they occupied spun into the path of its light. He turned back to the man, heaving in a painful breath that turned into a low sob. "Please."

The man looked from him to Simmons, his expression shifting, as if he were seeing her for the first time and Fitz thought he might have been given a glimpse of that beautiful flame, his vision reaching beyond what was in front of him to the person they were describing.

Or maybe that was only his own imagination, but, whatever the reason, the man very slowly lowered his weapon and reached for the radio that dangled from his belt.

"We need a medical team," he announced. "Quadrant three, fifty seven paces north from the cabin." Then he turned to Trip, motioning with his head to tell him he could move forward and get to work stopping the bleeding.

/-/-/


	14. Hydra

Simmons awoke on a bed, a terrible ache in her abdomen that sharpened each time she inhaled, dressed in a thin white hospital gown, light headed and confused by her surroundings. There was glass on all sides of her, rounded and sloping above the bed she lay on as if she were in some sort of giant cylinder.

What had happened, landing on the new planet, the explosion, all resurfaced in a rush and she gasped, frantically looking around outside her enclosure for the others.

She spotted Fitz immediately, sitting next to the her in a small plastic chair, his hand pressed against the glass while he attempted to calm her. "It's OK," he told her quickly. "You're safe, just… just don't….just try not to move around too much. You're still… still re-...recovering."

His eyes were weary, shadowed with grey as if he'd hadn't slept in a long time and, bloodshot and swollen as if he'd been crying. He was a mess, and he was stressed, she could tell by his words stuck on his tongue and how he his fingers gripped the glass, but he'd said they were safe and she trusted him so she lay still. It really hurt to move anyway, each muscle contraction sending jolts of pain across her body.

When she looked up she spotted Sim, laying on top of the glass so that she could look in on her, head tilting back and forth questioningly while she flicked her tail. Amused, Simmons waved weakly up at her and she waved back, beeping happily.

"You really scared us, crazy," Skye scolded from her other side, her eyes bright with relief. "What in the universe were you thinking? That was a really bad… stupid… brave thing to do."

"What happened?" she asked, darting her gaze between them. "Who threw the bomb? How am I-" She closed her eyes, feeling herself over. She wasn't hurt nearly as badly as she should have been, as she remembered.

Her eyes caught on the front of Fitz's suit, his arms, neck, hands. They all had dark streaks of dried blood stained onto them. There were even a few flecks of it in his hair, and she wondered how it had gotten all the way up there.

He noticed her staring and looked down, drawing his hand away from the glass self consciously.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, glancing towards her before guiltily dropping his gaze again. "This must be terrifying I just… there wasn't time to… I didn't want to leave, you were so…." He exhaled shakily, raising his head. "You're OK, but I'm sorry, I can go change… or… or wash up."

"No," she objected swiftly, because the thing that truly terrified her was the thought of being separated from him when she still had no idea what had happened or where they were. "No don't go. I'm glad you stayed."

Her hand raised, slowly because it felt as if her arm had been filled with lead, and she pressed it to the glass in front of him, wishing she could pass through it, make contact.

He sniffed, nodding obligingly, as if it had become his life's mission to do whatever made her less afraid, and placed his own over it, mouth twitching up in a reassuring smile she found herself briefly returning.

"What's happening?" she asked again, calmer now that she'd gotten her bearings. "What have I been placed in?" She shifted her gaze around the glass cylinder. "It looks like a hyperbaric chamber."

"It is," he answered, his smile widening proudly. "Sort of. It...it's healing you, though I'm not exactly sure as to how… It's more than just oxygen."

"It saved your life," Skye added, her voice somber. "The inhabitants of this planet saved you, and it seems as if they're happy to keep all of us alive."

"So the others are all alright?" she inquired, sighing in relief when her friend nodded.

"Thanks to you," she let her know warmly. Then she shook her head, eyes narrowed in disapproval. "Not that I'm condoning what you did. Don't do that again it was really, really stupid. That's coming from me and you're suppose to be the smart one OK? We need you around to… find alien planets and do science stuff and…" Her gaze twitched towards Fitz, just for a moment, but long enough that Simmons noticed. "We just need you."

'_Well it worked didn't it?'_ she thought.

However Skye looked on the verge of tears and Fitz even closer, his jaw clenched in an attempt to rein them in so that he needed to heave in his breaths through his nose, lip quivering while he watched her as if he thought she'd disappear the moment he looked away.

So she didn't say that out loud. Instead she nodded, whispering what she knew was a lie. "OK."

She knew why she'd done what she'd done, and she was certain that, if she had to, she'd do it again, whatever the consequences. They were more than her team, these were her people, Fitz and Skye especially but the others too, and _nothing _was going to harm them so long as she was there to stand in the way of it. Not that she wanted to go leaping onto any more bombs, she'd rather _not _have to do it again. Hopefully she wouldn't, if the inhabitants of the planet really were as friendly as Skye was saying.

But then who'd thrown the bomb? And who'd knocked them out of the sky the first time they'd come?

"Who attacked us?" she asked.

Skye and Fitz exchanged an uncertain glance.

"We don't know," Fitz told her.

"Mr. Weber seems to think it's Hydra," Skye suggested.

Simmons frowned, confused. "What's Hydra?"

An aged voice from the doorway answered her. "Devils from the sky."

The three of them looked to the door to find a man entering from the hallway, carrying a tray of food and a stack of ceramic plates.

"My name is Willis Weber," he introduced, setting the tray and the plates down on a table off to the side of her bed. "Your companions met me out in the balloon plants, but you were…" His mouth set in a line and he shook his head. "Well you probably wouldn't remember that. The doctor says you'll be able to come out of the chamber soon," he told her, brightening. He set about organizing his stack of food before approaching the pod and smiling goodnaturedly. "I apologize, I didn't expect you to be awake and I thought the others would be hungry… you must be too, but you can't eat while the process is occurring, I'm not a doctor, I don't know why, but those are the rules."

"We'll wait then," Fitz decided firmly and Skye nodded in agreement.

"Oh, no, it's fine," she tried to protest but her stomach grumbled loudly, her hunger awakened by the sight of the food.

"We'll wait," he repeated.

She could see there really was no arguing with either of them, so she decided to move on to what the man had said about their potential attackers, unwilling to be left in the dark about what was going on.

"I'm sorry, but what's Hydra?" she asked. "And why would they attack us?"

"They're a group of terrorists," he answered, his smile quickly disappearing. "They've been attacking our world since we first made contact with them nearly thirty years ago. They seek to eradicate us, we don't know why… we would gladly share our world, our population is small, we don't have enough people to do everything that needs to be done, and there's a lot of room both here and on Atlas- the other habitable world circling our star," he clarified when he received three matching sets of raised eyebrows. "This world is called Eumelus,"

"After two of the kings of Atlantis," she realized, managing to tilt her chin up, feeling stronger each passing minute. The medical technology on Eumelus must have been incredible. "From the old Earth myth."

He nodded approvingly. "Yes, they were named nearly a century ago, when we found them. It seems as if humankind had a habit of naming planets for ancient figures, I guess they decided to continue after old Earth was destroyed. For a long time, we believed ours was the only surviving population…," His expression grew shadowed. "Until we found Hydra."

"And the hellish crater creatures decided that hurting people would be a better idea than sharing," Fitz guessed bitterly, his hand still pushed into the glass where hers was, stuck in place as if someone had glued it there, and she didn't need to wonder if he was thinking of the way they had (allegedly) attacked them.

"They did," Willis acknowledged. "It's why we set up the pulse of electromagnetic radiation around our homeworlds… and a few of the planets we've begun terraforming. I'm impressed you managed to get through the field," he admitted. "You must have someone with excellent code breaking skills."

Fitz and Simmons looked to Skye who grinned.

"That'd be me," she told him, raising a hand. "I've always been good with code, ever since I was a kid. Actually that's how I met my dad, I was hacking into the security feed of station 616 to-" She stopped, dismissing the high level incursion with a wave of her hand. "I probably shouldn't tell you about that actually… I got into some classified documents, saw some things…" She trailed off, pressing her lips together to remind herself to keep quiet.

"Met your father?" he asked, tilting his head in confusion. "I don't understand."

"I was adopted," she explained. "A group of explorers found me in the wreckage of some sort of crash when I was three. I was the only survivor… and no one was missing a baby girl from that part of the galaxy so… you know." She shrugged, trying not to appear bothered by it, but Simmons knew the story was still a sore spot for her friend and she saw right through her facade, though she didn't comment. "They never ended up finding my family, or where I came from. So I bopped around for awhile until I managed to hack myself a dad… and a mom if he and May ever decided to do anything but shoot _meaningful _looks at each other every time they're together… if you know what I mean… uh… anyway…" She trailed off, chuckling awkwardly. "That's my story."

Willis sat back in one of the plastic seats, looking thoughtful. "We sometimes send out ships," he told them. "To… explore, as you do, terraform other worlds around our sun, travel between the two that are fit for life. Our ships have been destroyed by Hydra in the past. We've lost many, including children."

Skye and Simmons exchanged a glance, Simmons raising her eyebrows, asking for permission, and Skye nodded.

"I've been running tests on Skye," she let him know. "At first it was an attempt to find her family but… there were things about her biology that suggested she'd spent time on an alien planet… not a space station like everyone else… or… everyone else we knew of," she added, nodding her head towards him. "Is it possible that she came from here?"

Skye bit her lip, staring hopefully at him as he looked her over.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Twenty four," she answered quickly. "It would have happened twenty one years ago."

"We have records of every attack," he told her. His eyes glazed with sorrow as he spoke, and Simmons wondered if, perhaps, he'd known someone who had been lost in such an attack. "I'll see what I can find."

"You will?" Skye exclaimed, sitting up a little straighter in her seat. She beamed at him. "Thank you."

He smiled back. "There might be someone out there who will be very happy to know you're alive."

"Are you talking about my patient?" a cheerful voice asked, and they turned to see a woman dressed in a white labcoat stepping through the door. "Of course she's alive, between the nanobots and the healpod, fixing her up wasn't a problem." She noticed Simmons was awake and winked merrily at her. "You should be as good as new honey," she promised. "It won't even leave a scar."

"It's fantastic," Simmons marveled, a thousand and one questions rippling excitedly across her mind. "How does it work? You've put nanobots inside of me? May I see one, or a few? What's in the pod that's allowing me to heal so quickly?"

The doctor chuckled. "Aren't you an inquisitive one," she mused. "Just like your friend here," she added, jerking her head towards Fitz. "Though the poor dear was a bit more anxious than curious, it got a little loud in here when I had to put you in the chamber. I had to explain that, no, we don't need to do surgery, our tiny metal friends do that for us. I'll tell you all about them later though, let's just get you out of there first OK?"

Out. That sounded wonderful, incredible healing abilities aside she _was _getting a little claustrophobic. She'd had trouble with small spaces ever since she was a little girl, she'd even had nightmares about being trapped in a box at the bottom of an ocean… which was strange because she'd never actually seen an ocean.

"I'd like that," she answered, smiling back when the doctor beamed brightly at her and skipped over to the controls.

The chamber opened at the bottom and they pulled her bed out of it so that she slid along with it, past the glass and into the open air.

Hesitantly, she sat up, testing her muscles which were already feeling much better, though they were still stiff and a little sore.

"Not too fast," the doctor warned and Fitz reached out his hand to touch the side of her arm, steadying her.

"I'm OK," she assured them, leaning into Fitz and rising her other arm to invite him closer.

He took the empty spot beside her pillow, sitting down carefully as if he were worried any sudden movement was going to hurt her, and she moved towards him, pulling him into an embrace that he returned without hesitation, silently stroking her hair while she nuzzled into his shoulder, a blissful sense of serenity spreading over her. She'd wanted to hold him since she'd awoken, yearned for his warmth and the feel of his arms around her, letting her know that they were both safe and together.

The others gave them some space, allowing them time to hold onto each other, and after a few seconds he planted a gentle kiss on the top of her head, leaving his face close to her so that she felt his words against her hair when he spoke.

"You're OK," he murmured. "You're OK now." His voice was thick with relief and strained from the horror of what had happened.

"I feel much better," she noted, wanting to reassure him but realizing only after she'd said it how much of an understatement it was.

It made it sound as if she'd just gotten over a head cold, not having herself blown open by a grenade, however it didn't seem possible that there had ever been that much damage.

Except that the person holding her was covered in her own blood.

Sim climbed onto her lap, pressing a tiny hand against her stomach and chirping up at her. Two short beeps, a question.

"It's gone now," she told the little creature fondly. "I'm all fixed up."

She chirped again, happily this time, and rubbed her head against Simmons' shirt before settling onto her legs, curling her tail around herself like a cat.

As Simmons patted her head, her stomach grumbled again, whining for the delicious looking plate of food that had been set out for them. Some sort of pastry and fruit by the looks of it. _Real _fruit, she could smell it from all the way across the room.

Fitz chuckled softly at her gurglings and pecked another kiss onto her head before he gently pulled away. "I'll get you a bit of everything."

"Thank you. And don't forget to get some for yourself too," she reminded him.

"Of course not, I'm bloody starving," he replied, looking over his shoulder to smile at her when she chuckled fondly. However, when he reached the table, he glanced down at his hands, uncertain. "Jemma…" he began tentatively.

"Go wash up," she suggested, taking a guess what was making him so uncomfortable. "I'll be here… and we'll save you something to eat."

He nodded numbly,(it must have really been upsetting him if was enough to make him forgo eating) then stepped back over to where she sat and paused in front of her, searching her anxiously. "You're really OK?"

He was doing his best to hold it back but he was shaken, whatever else had happened between them, he was still the same man she'd been best friends with for over a decade and she knew when something was upsetting him.

She smiled, wondering if it would be appropriate to reach up and touch his cheek, just to reassure him (and, honestly, to reassure herself as well, getting blown up really wasn't any fun).

"If you two want to kiss goodbye, I'll… look away or whatever," Skye offered, yanking their attention towards her so that their heads snapped to the side in unison.

"Say what?" "Come again?" They asked incredulously.

She crossed her arms and quirked up her eyebrows, unimpressed. "Seriously guys? _Everyone knows. _I even think a few people back on 616 know… they felt a disturbance in the force or something. Or they've seen you two together and they saw this coming."

Fitz and Simmons exchanged a glance, uncertain how to respond. Then Simmons shrugged, deciding to let go of their temporary cover. Life was too short to pretend you weren't in love with someone.

"Well, if you already know," she conceded. She lifted her hand to tug on Fitz's shirt, not enough to pull him forward, but enough that, judging by his shy smile, he got the message and leaned towards her to press a kiss to her lips.

When he turned to leave, Sim started to follow him but he picked her up and gently placed her back beside Simmons.

"You stay here little bolt," he instructed fondly, tousling a patch between her ears before lifting his gaze back to Simmons. "I'll be back soon," he promised, and the urgency in his voice made her wish she could go with him.

However sitting up was hard enough at the moment, standing and walking around was going to need to wait a while.

"I'll see you soon then," she answered instead.

He smiled again, then, once more, made his way towards the door and Simmons couldn't help trailing him with her gaze as he left the room.

She caught Skye smirking out of the corner of her eye and couldn't help the blush that coloured her face. She'd been under the impression that they were doing a decent job at keeping their relationship private. Had they really been _that _obvious?

"It took you two long enough," Skye mused, laughing and shaking her head.

Willis and the doctor only smiled.

/-/-/

Fitz needed it _off. _

Even at the best of times, he didn't like blood, or any bodily fluid for that matter. It made his insides squirm like worms in dirt (which also sounded horribly disgusting).

He liked things clean, organized, everything that icky, squishy insides weren't and even the sight of a comparatively small amount of blood back on the stations had been enough to set him on edge. One of his worst memories was when he'd broken his arm as a child, and the bone had stuck out through his skin, torn flesh and carnage, painful and alarming.

What he was feeling now made that seem like finding a bruised apple in the fruit bowl and this time it wasn't disgust and pain he felt but horror.

His red-brown coating was proof that his love had almost bled to death in his arms, a reminder of that moment when the universe had been ending, collapsing in on itself to form a hungry black hole that ate and ate and then ate some more until there was nothing left of anything.

It was nothing, and death and it was all over him.

He needed it _off. _

The washroom looked a lot like the ones back home, although there was a slight deviation in the layout from station standard. Some things were rounded when he'd only ever seen them square, others square when he thought they ought to be rounded. It was minor, but enough to remind how far from home they'd actually strayed.

Once he'd locked the door, he squirmed out of his suit, tore off the jumper that had been stained around the collar, pulled them inside out so that he wouldn't have to see it and roughly kicked them away.

Then he turned on the tap, hot at first because he wasn't used to the controls, adding cold to make it warm after cursing profusely under his breath when his finger was scalded, quickly turning an angry red.

After only a moment's debate, he took off his t-shirt so he would have an easier time clearing his neck, using the mirror to ensure that he didn't miss a single splotch.

It was in his hair too, how the hell had it gotten into his hair? He really didn't want to remember.

He soaked it all lest he miss a crusted lock, lathering in plenty of soap from the dispenser, then frantically scrubbed his scalp and skin raw with his nails a wet paper towel, refusing to risk leaving even a trace behind. He didn't think he'd be able to breath properly until her removed all of it.

Several minutes later, as he was finishing tidying up the sink, calmer now that he was clean but still dreading needing to deal with his old clothes, there was a soft knock at the door.

"Fitz?" It was Trip. "You in there?"

"Yeah, just… just a minute," he told him, scrambling to toss the paper towel he still held before searching around for something to wear. His t-shirt was had been spared, so he pulled it on before unlocking and inching open the door.

"I thought you might want a change of clothes," Trip offered, holding out a clean shirt and a fresh pair of pants. "What are you doing in there? Washing your hair?" he asked, surprised when he spotted Fitz's sopping wet curls. "Didn't Mr. Weber tell you where the showers were?"

His shoulders sagged and he lowered his gaze, his stomach still weighted with jagged stones. "I suppose that would have been easier," he replied dully.

Trip sighed, shoulders falling as he tilted his head sympathetically. "You know, just because everything turned out alright, doesn't mean you weren't just in a tight situation," he reasoned. "It's alright to be a little shaken up."

Fitz clenched his fist uneasily, the gritty, tainted feeling lingering on his freshly pinkened skin. He could still see her, so pale and still, everything that made her her rapidly draining away.

"I thought she was going to die," he admitted quietly, fighting to keep his voice even. "Right in front of me, she was dying and I couldn't… I didn't know what to do… I just... " he exhaled shakily, leaning against the door frame because he knees suddenly felt like rubber. "How do you do it?" he wondered miserably. "How do you stop seeing it?"

"I haven't yet," Trip answered, unusually serious, his features setting into a rare frown. "I still see you all the time."

Fitz met his friend's gaze, remembering that it had been Trip who'd resuscitated him when his heart had stopped, who'd kept him alive on the long rush back to the station.

"Did I ever thank you? For saving me?" he asked. "Because I'm really grateful for it, I am. If it weren't for you I'd be…" He swallowed, thinking of Simmons and feeling his heart twist.

"You're not though," Trip reminded him gently. "You're alive." He chuckled, his easy smile reclaiming its usual place. "And so is our crazy captain. I went to see her a few minutes ago… did you know she's waiting for you to try the fruit?"

"She's not!" he exclaimed, aghast. "That's… well we can't have that. Poor Simmons, listening to her stomach grumble while I'm here… uh… um… while I'm..."

"Taking a bath in the sink?" Trip guessed, grinning at him.

"I was going to say wallowing actually," he corrected, but the corners of his mouth rose into a small smile and his stomach unknotted enough that he was actually hungry again.

"Maybe you can wade your way into some fruit instead," Trip teased, an amused glint in his eyes.

"You should have some too," he suggested, finally accepting the clothes. "After I change we can go together."

The other man made a face. "I don't know, I'm pretty strict about what goes into my body, I feel like introducing a ton of new produce all of a sudden is just asking for a bad reaction."

"It's _fruit_," Fitz groaned, shutting the door so he could change and shaking his head at his friend's strict policies on the foods he ingested. "It's good for you."

Trip chuckled again, but didn't object and they fell into a comfortable silence as Fitz neatly folded his old clothes (keeping them inside out) and donned the new set he'd been given which were a little more wooly than he was used to. He wondered if they had sheep on this planet. After the forest of red balloon plants, the miraculous healpod and the citizen's mysterious enemies, fighting pointlessly for a world they could easily share, he didn't think anything would surprise him.

/-/-/

* * *

><p>Thanks notapepper for reading this over :D. It's really helpful and you know the characters so well.<p>

The Fringe reference is the healpod. It's based on the one Lincoln recovers in in The Plateau. I think that one is specifically for burns, and it doesn't heal him as quickly as Simmons is healed (though, the guy was seriously singed, so maybe that's why it took a long time) but I picture the one here to look a bit like that one.

The idea for the nano-healing-robots is from many different science fiction stories including the books Flash Forward and Nanites and I think the idea is just a general theme in a lot of stories. Also wikipedia has a list of a bunch of potential applications for them as a real life medical technology which, includes surgery (I'm not sure how close/realistic this is, but it looks cool).


	15. The Garden

When they were finished eating, Simmons rose to her feet, took Fitz's empty plate to stack on top of her own and deposited them on the table. Then, before he could object that it was too soon for her to be up and doing things. she glided back over and purposefully reached out both hands for him to take.

"We're going for a walk darling," she announced, grinning broadly at him.

He frowned, confused even as he locked his fingers around her palms and rose to stand in front of her. "What… a… where? Should you really be standing right now," he fussed. "Don't you think you should rest?"

"She should be fine," the doctor, who'd told them her name was Martha, assured him cheerfully. "You don't feel any pain, do you sweetie?" she asked Simmons.

"None at all," she answered brightly, that familiar toothy grin returning. "It's quite remarkable actually," she gushed, her eyes drawn once again to the healpod, brimming with curiosity. "They've tested my blood and liver function and everything is coming back completely normal, better actually, my white cell count is exceptional, even the gas I had is gone… ahem…" she appeared only slightly embarrassed before moving on. "Fitz I'm _fine,_" she asserted. "And there's snow outside, _outside, _in the air, with a sky and everything!" He hadn't believed it possible, but her grin widened even further as she leaned in towards him, her eyes sparkling. "_And _it's the end of their day cycle, you know what that means don't you?"

He smiled, he couldn't help it she was a sunshine factory, puffing fluffy white clouds out the smoke stacks. This was Jemma, alive and bright and outright spectacular. He'd never seen anyone one more beautiful in his entire life, and he didn't think he ever would. Trip was right, she was here, they both were, together, and they should rejoice in that.

"I think it means there's going to be a sunset," he answered, heart singing when she nodded and leaned forward to butt her forehead against his, letting it rest there long enough that he felt her happy giggling against him.

"Would anyone else like to join us?" she inquired politely, pulling away though she still held both his hands in her own.

"Martha was going to show me around the hospital," Trip told them, charming the doctor with a smile that made her giggle effervescently. "After seeing what that machine can do," he tipped his head to the round glass chamber, "I think I'll have a lot to learn."

"And I'm sure you'll be able to teach us a thing or two," Martha added, squirming with excitement. "I can't wait to hear what a hospital on a _space station _is like."

She spoke as if she'd never seen one before which, Fitz realized with a jolt, she hadn't. The people here had grown up with their feet over sweet, fresh dirt. According to Mr. Webber, many of them had never even been to space before.

It was hard to imagine.

With Trip occupied, Fitz and Simmons shifted their attention to Skye, waiting for her reply.

"No, I'll let you guys enjoy your date," Skye passed, smirking at them like her puppybot had just uploaded a new trick. "I'm sure I'll find something to do."

"We can start the database search," Willis offered.

"R-right now?" Skye asked, surprised and maybe a bit nervous too, chewing at her bottom lip as she watched for his response.

"If you'd like," he replied kindly. "I don't go back into the woods until tomorrow. I want to wait until it warms up a bit-" he shifted in his seat so he was facing Fitz and Simmons. "Speaking of which, do either of you have anything warm to wear? You won't be able to go out in a hospital gown, you'd be very uncomfortable."

"The crew's been wearing the inner layer of their suits to go outside," Trip explained, turning to Fitz and Simmons he added. "We brought a few spares for you, since yours are…" His brow furrowed and he trailed off.

"Since we can't use ours," Simmons finished, rubbing a hand across her stomach uneasily. She smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you Trip."

"Any time," he answered earnestly.

"So, how would like to come see our database?" Willis asked Skye again. "You'll need to put on a suit like your friends, it's in another building."

Skye nodded quickly, eyes glowing as she leapt to her feet. "I'd like that. Thank you."

"We're going to have to get you all coats eventually," Martha remarked, shaking her head disapprovingly. "It's going to be such a hassle needing a _space suit _just to go outside."

"Where we're from, we always need a space suit to go outside," Fitz let her know matter-of-factly.

She laughed at that, a loud, bark-like _ha_. "I guess you did spaceman."

/-/-/

That evening, Fitz and Simmons strolled down the winding stone path through the strange, snow covered garden that surrounded the hospital, Sim catching a ride on top of Fitz's head as she curiously observed the new world around her.

The 'plants' (if you could call them that) were by far some of the most bizarre things any of them had ever laid eyes on. There were the red balloon plants (or balloon plants as the locals seemed to call them), long, smooth posts that ended in extravagant, soft looking fluff that came in an assortment of colours (which they'd been told were called truffula trees, named from a children's book one of the early settlers had brought) as well as the blue-green pine-tree look-alikes with the ridiculously long needles, all rising above them so that the Fitzs and Simmons found themselves feeling much smaller than they ever had.

Everything in the new world made Fitz feel tiny, which was strange, considering he'd spent most of his life in space, the biggest thing in the universe, but most of that had been spent in the relatively cramped quarters of space stations and ships, not out in the open black where he couldn't get very far anyway.

Down on Eumelus, they existed under the unending blue sky, now pinkening as they spun away from the star (Willis kept saying the _sun _was going _down_, here they thought about where the star was in relation to them, rather than where they were in relation it, something else he'd never experienced before). With all the open space stretching out around him, space he could run to without fear of suffocating or freezing to death, Fitz felt like a fairy in a giant's house.

"It is freezing out here," he commented, wrapping his arms around himself to stave off the chilling gust of wind that ruffled his hair.

"I think it's wonderful," Simmons chirped merrily, skipping along beside him as if the breeze were bending around her and not cutting at her skin the way it was his. "I've never felt anything like it before. And _look _at those creatures, aren't they fantastic?"

Fitz eyed the flying furballs she was referring to suspiciously. Their wings were clear, beating at a high frequency, like an insect, and the light coloured 'fur' that covered their bodies looked more like the pointed quills of a porcupine.

"They're certainly… different," he agreed.

One landed on the needled branch of one of strange pines, alarmingly close to Simmons, and he resisted the urge to chase it off, not trusting it's wicked, pincer-like jaws so close to her, even if Martha had assured them that they were harmless.

Some people actually kept them as pets, as if they _wanted _thorny whizzing little monsters (or porcuflies, as people there called them) gnawing at their furniture and (possibly) nipping at their hair.

Simmons seemed enthralled by it, sticking her nose so close he feared it'd be bitten off, tilting her head at it as it returned her stare with five beady black eyes.

"I suppose this must be what it was like to have birds," she bubbled (Fitz seriously doubted that, but he didn't have the heart to object when he was so grateful that she was alive and happy). "Look at the eyes! They don't seem to resemble the compound eyes of insects, however they don't look like vertebrate eyes either. I've never seen anything like it before!" She laughed. "I wonder how often I'm going to be saying _that_."

The creature buzzed it's wings suddenly, disturbed when her voice rose in pitch and volume, rushing towards her in it's dash to escape and startling them so that Fitz grabbed her shoulders, pulling her away from it and Sim leapt off his head, chirping angrily and trying to grab it as it rose up and away, only to fall with a soft _thunk _into the snow.

"Honestly you two," Simmons scolded, brushing him off as the little robot shook herself dry and scrambled up Simmons' leg and torso to cling to her shoulder, warily eyeing the trees for more potential adversaries. Simmons tisked at her but shifted her arm so the that the monkeybot would have an easier time balancing herself before claiming Fitz's hand in her own and resuming their walk. "It's only nature, it isn't going to hurt us."

"Didn't the people of old Earth have to worry about nature all the time?" Fitz objected. "Biting insects and tornadoes and bears…"

"I think we'll be safe in the garden," she decided, rolling her eyes when Fitz continued to frown. "Oh stop being a grump, we're finally _here, _we're on a planet we can stand on and breath the air and be outside without… well we are wearing space suits but we don't need to be."

"I think we'd freeze our arses off if we weren't," Fitz contested, teeth beginning to clack against each other.

Simmons softened, relaxing her stance, inadvertently causing Sim to slip and leap down to investigate the strange new environment. She threw him a look that was midway between affection and sympathy, shaking her head as she looked him over. "Poor Fitz, you're shivering. Come here."

She motioned for him to come forward and when he did she wrapped him in a tight hug, covering as much of him as she could with her own body, which was like an electric blanket against his skin, even through the inner layer of the suit.

He hummed happily and held her snug against him with both arms. "Let's stay like this, this is nice," he said dreamily.

How did she always smell so good? Did she have roses under her skin? It didn't matter, whatever the source of her alluring aroma, he was content melting into her.

She giggled, turning to peck his cheek before wiggling away. "Then you'll miss the sun setting," she reminded him, taking his hand again to tug him along behind her. "Martha says the best place to see it is on top of that hill."

"Are you sure you're fit to… to go… to be climbing things?" he fretted.

"It's not that steep," she told him dismissively. "And you don't need to worry about me, I'm perfectly fine, fit as the proverbial fiddle."

It _was _steep, but Simmons had no problems hiking to the summit of the dirt mound, only a little more than twice her height. Sim pushed bravely through the snow behind them, amusing herself by leaving patterns in it with her tiny tracks.

At the top, Fitz and Simmons stood side by side, looking out towards the wilderness that bordered the small city.

It was beautiful, closer than he'd ever been to a star and rather than a frosty white twinkle, at this distance and this angle it looked like dark orange fireball, perfectly round and setting the sky aflame with pink and orange. He couldn't believe how much the world had changed since they'd landed, from bright and crisp and blue to this warmly coloured painting. And this happened _every day _here. Twice the sky caught fire, and in between there could be clouds in all shapes and textures and sizes or they might spend the day beneath a dazzling blue ceiling.

He wanted to see it all, wanted them to see it together and, in an instant, he didn't mind the cold so much. It was new and exciting and best of all it was _theirs_. A memory to last forever. They'd make new memories too, of the blistering summer and the softly falling snow Willis kept saying was due.

There was rain too, which led to rainbows, and all that was just the start. It was just the sky, there was the earth too, a whole world for them to explore.

"Oh Fitz, it's incredible," she breathed, fading daylight filling her eyes.

He smiled, pulling her towards him with an arm that hooked around her shoulders. "It's just the beginning."

She turned to him, regarding him with the same wonder she'd held for the sunset. Then, without speaking, she moved in to kiss him and it was his turn to catch fire.

/-/-/

Simmons thought she would burst from the joy that bubbled in her chest, filing her all the way to her toes. It was so big and so beautiful, an entire world for them to discover together and she couldn't wait to get started.

A loud crack sounded behind them, shattering the spell that had been hanging over them and snapping their attention to the direction of the sound while Sim scampered back to hide behind Fitz's legs.

Simmons tensed, clutching at his arms with round eyes. "Was… was that a…?"

"I think it was a gunshot," Fitz told her. There was an edge to his voice, and his fingers gripped the sleeves of her suit. "We need to get down, this is a horrible place to be if… if…"

"We don't even know what's going on," she pointed out reasonably, thinking it probably wasn't in their best interest to begin jumping to conclusions, especially considering that everything there was so strange and foreign to them.

"When has people shooting things ever been not dangerous?" he protested.

"I don't know, there was never a lot of shooting out in space," she defended. "It'd go right through the hull and then we'd have all been in trouble. And we've never heard a gun before except in those old films Skye makes us watch… maybe…. it could have been a truck."

Fitz's eyebrows rose in disbelief. "A truck? Really?"

She puffed impatiently. "We should go see what's going on anyway."

"Yeah… OK…" he agreed hesitantly. "But let's do our best to keep our heads low… just in case."

She nodded her agreement and, slowly, hearts in their throats, the pair skulked across the garden, Sim reclaiming her perch on Fitz's shoulder as they trudged through the snow so they could hide behind bushes until Simmons pointed out that their footprints would give them away anyway and they reclaimed their use of the path.

They spotted someone leaving the hospital and, on edge, skidded hastily into a particularly thick bunch of bush-like structures, hiding in the unusual vegetation.

It was Mr. Whitehall, with Audrey, Seth and Donnie, but there were strange men with them, men holding heavy, frightening looking guns, and their friends were tied together by their wrists.

All except Mr. Whitehall, who strolled breezily alongside the menacing strangers, occasionally turning his head to look back over his shoulder at the other three, calmly, the way someone might look at a bag of groceries or a stack of newspapers.

"What's he doing?" Fitz wondered, appalled. "Where is he taking them?"

"Fitz get down," Simmons hissed, yanking at the sleeve of his shirt when he straightened himself for a better look. "They'll see you."

She too was horror struck by their teammate's apparent betrayal, but they were only a few meters away, dangerously close, and she didn't want to think about what they'd do with those lethal contraptions they were wielding if they found them. This wasn't the time to be taking risks.

"Well I've never hidden in a bush before have I?" he shot back grouchily.

She looked around at the strange organism whose aqua-blue nettles they hid in, the 'wood' making her think of the scaly hide of a lizard. "I wouldn't exactly call it a bush," she objected.

"Does it really matter what's it called right now?" he whispered loudly. "That traitor has Audrey, Seth and Donnie!"

"Shhh," she reminded him sharply and Sim tugged at his lips, scolding him before the pair fell silent.

"I apologize that you were almost collateral damage," Mr. Whitehall was saying to Audrey as he led her and her brothers, tied together by the thick ropes, out of the hospital. "I didn't want so many of the crew members to come down with us… the fewer people involved in this the better. I didn't expect you to be able to repair the damage so easily, it was unfortunate that the debris didn't hit the locking mechanism directly. It would have been far more convenient if you had been forced to use the smaller shuttle."

"It _was _fortunate that Fitz heard the shielding come back on," she retorted stonily.

Mr. Whitehall hummed dismissively at that. "We were attempting to eliminate him with that particular trick, only him. _You _might be of use in our new world but we have no use for… damaged citizens. Our new world is going to be perfect."

"Perfection doesn't exist," Donnie contended defiantly. "Not in any society."

"And not in any living thing," Seth finished.

"Maybe," Mr. Whitehall answered thoughtfully, ignoring the challenging glares that his prisoners were searing him with. "Or maybe no one has succeeded in creating perfection yet. We are going to weed out this planet, and what we leave will be the superior specimens of our species. And then we will do the same to the other world. It'll be just like evolution, only the best and the strongest will survive."

"You really don't understand evolution, do you?" Seth questioned defiantly.

"Seth shut up," Audrey scolded under her breath, looking frightened when Mr. Whitehall shot him a sharp glance.

"All you need to know," he told him, stepping forward menacingly so that he was only a few inches away from Seth's scowl, "is that you are either going to be part of the future… or you're going to be another fossil no one's going to bother digging up, am I clear?"

The three prisoners' faces hardened and they didn't reply.

Mr. Whitehall grunted disapprovingly. "Our infectobomb will destroy most of the humans on this planet, we'll have to sort through the survivors and eliminate the ones unfit for our new world… and the ones who refuse to comply," he added, eyeing them meaningfully. "We don't have many vaccines, me and my men have already taken most of them, so you'll need to be on your best behaviour if you want to stand a chance of receiving one.

Still, the three hostages remained stone-faced, however none of them spoke their objections out loud.

Simmons couldn't help tightening her hold on Fitz's hand, hot with fury at everything the vile man was saying.

'_You aren't setting off that bomb, we're going to stop you," _she raged. '_And you aren't going to get another chance to 'eliminate' anyone, you monster,' _she added, rage mounting as she remembered what he'd said about the timing of the shielding's return. It made her skin crawl and her gut burn, that he'd come so close to killing two innocent people, that he'd almost taken Fitz away from her forever.

He needed to be stopped. How exactly they were going to do that, she hadn't yet figured out, but she wasn't going to allow Whitehall to get away with whatever he'd been planning. She was livid, that they'd been betrayed, that he'd tried to hurt Fitz, that he was going to hurt thousands, maybe even millions of innocent people because of a messed up delusion he had of creating a 'better world'.

And who was in that world? Him and his tiny army of brainwashed worker bees? If he thought that he and his men were better than everyone else, that he was superior in any way to the man who stood beside her, then he was sorely mistaken and he was going to pay for that mistake when they thwarted him.

Perhaps she was being just a smidge overconfident, but they needed to try _something _and a quick glance to the side told her that Fitz felt the same way, his brow furrowed and his expression hard with determination.

"We have to stop him," he hissed, the moment the mixed group was out of sight. "What did he mean, a infectobomb? He can't be talking about…"

"The virus bombs? The ones they invented in final decades of Old Earth?" Simmons asked rigidly. "I think that's exactly what he means Fitz."

"They shoot clean into the sky, it'll spread whatever he's got in there across the entire planet!" Fitz exclaimed in horror.

"And it must act quickly too, otherwise he'd be more concerned about their advanced medical technology… unless he's hiding his doubts..." she worried.

Fitz shook his head. "He'd have waited a little longer to…" he waved his hands in the direction of the hospital, seeming at a loss for the words.

"To begin his plan," she finished and he nodded somberly. "You're right… from what we know about him he seems intelligent." _For an arrogant brute._ "He managed this whole thing right under our noses and out of dozens of crew members, not one suspected a thing."

"So he has some master plan to… to take over the world. There must be...um… he must have a… an infectobomb with some sort of virus that kills very, very quickly and… and who knows how many armed men," Fitz summised grimly.

Simmons gulped, fear flapping in her gut like an angry porcufly. "It looks that way, yes."

Fitz met her gaze, her own fear mirrored in his expression, and he reached out to take her hand in both his own, bringing it towards him to gently kiss her fingers before pulling it to his chest, eyes locked onto hers as if he could find something beyond them that would make whatever they needed to do possible. Simmons stared back, drawing comfort from the rise and fall of his breaths against her hand.

"Then how are we going to stop them?" he asked bravely.

Simmons opened her mouth to reply, to tell him that they'd think of something together, that they could do this, when a voice near her ear startled them into leaping to their feet, clinging to each other and turning to face whoever it was.

"First of all, you two are going to have to find a better place to hide."

It was Willis.

/-/-/

* * *

><p>Thank you notapepper for being helping me out, it's really helpful to have your perspective :D.<p>

The Fringe reference is the part where Simmons is describing how healthy she is. The original line is from 2x09 _Snakehead. _ _"I've tested my blood and liver function. I'm fine. In fact, my white cell count is through the roof, I have several new antibodies in my blood, and even the gas I had is gone."  
><em>I made a few changes to the stuff about the white blood cells and the antibodies, because I think that an increase in white cell count and new antibodies can also mean you're sick and I didn't know if that would be confusing. Is she better? Or does she have a parasitic infection now? These are the questions I try to avoid, mainly because I'm not a doctor. (But I do make jokes).

The idea for the infectobomb came out of a conversation with eckles about Hydra using bombs that only destroy biological matter (you have so many ideas!). Infectobomb is probably a Pokemon move.

Also, adding the Truffala trees was inspired by a review by notapepper :D. So many people have great ideas.


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